... back at the Cafe Zinc. Lunch time. Ellie and I share an egg salad sandwich. At the next table--have I told this story before? I have not, but it sounds familiar--two women of respectable age, one of them with a distinctly British accent. Irresistible! Of course we embark on a conversation. She's an even older immigrant than I, having left the old country with her GI husband in 1956. (I crossed the pond in 1962, and have returned since only for visits.) We enjoyed a friendly chat, with the growing sense that we were like-minded folk and could share our views...
It was Ellie who started telling the story of our Russian friends, from a couple of days ago. His rage. His hatred of Obama. Then our new friend said, "Well, of course I agree with what he said." That there's no difference between Obama and Osama? Well, she wouldn't go quite that far. But is it not obvious that Obama hates Jews? And hates white people? Did she really believe that? Of course. Isn't it obvious? Not to me. What makes her think he hates Jews and white people? It's what he says. He makes no effort to disguise it. Hmm. I find it hard to believe that she hears such things in what Obama says. Does she listen to him? No, she's too disgusted to even listen to him. She did listen to him at first, but not recently. But he's an enemy of Israel...
And so on. We should not be surprised. We are, after all, in Orange County, California, one of the most conservative in the country. Even so, this is Laguna Beach, a small enclave of liberal thinking, and it comes as a shock to hear people talking in this way. I was writing just yesterday about unreason. So I sat there trying to make some sense of it all while she went on, and failing miserably.
Then I came home and found Chimmy's comment on my earlier entry, inviting me to take a look at the story of her friend Glennon's encounter. "There is hope," she wrote. (Or he--I have no way of knowing whether Chimmy is a he or a she. Fun-loving, though, I'm guessing.) So I followed the link and found myself reading this entry in a blog called Momastery. I beg you to read it, start to finish, because Glennon provides the perfect model of a successful communication between left and right. Where I simply goggled in disbelief, Glennon engaged. Admittedly she had a little more time to do so, since she was on an airplane flight and her interlocutor was the angry man in the seat adjacent to hers. But, as she tells the story, she managed to find the compassion to listen and get past the rhetoric to the basically good man behind it. It's a marvelous story, and she tells it beautifully, without haste, allowing it to unfold and reveal an important truth without self-righteousness or rancor.
So I say bravo Glennon. I aspire to your empathy and compassionate humanity. I have yet to discover more about your charitable organization, Monkee See, Monkey Do, but I plan to do so. And I have already added your website to my blogroll, and I trust that this entry may inspire a few others to check in. And thanks to Chimmy for alerting me. As she noted, with the evidence of such intelligence and good-heartedness, there is hope.
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
GRATITUDE
Just an update on Slow Looking, for TBD readers. As you know I have been much preoccupied in recent days with putting out word about my new book and this is a good moment to acknowledge the help you've given me, some in very significant ways. Just yesterday, my friend and fellow-blogger, the painter Gregg Chadwick, wrote a lengthy entry about the book on Speed of Life. Thanks, Gregg! I'm grateful, too, for the long and thoughtful article by Liz Goldner , the Orange County-based writer and art critic, on her blog, Contemporary Art Dialogue. And then, quite unexpectedly, there was a fine article in Slow Muse, a blog authored by the east coast painter Deborah Barlow. Thanks, Deborah! How about a "One Hour/One Painting" session in your studio one day? The paintings you post on your blog look like excellent subjects! And thanks, too, for Facebook postings by Fiona Robyn, Robin Chan, Morrie Warshawski, Pat Riley, and others--as well as to all those who "liked," forwarded and tweeted links.
This has been my first experience with POD (publish on demand) self-publishing, so I'm more than ever aware that it's this kind of support that's needed if a book is to rise above the horizon line in today's saturated market--and I hope it goes without saying that it's the ideas I'm interested in spreading, not the commerce! One thing that's puzzling to me is the stats on CreateSpace. As I've noted before, there have been annoying glitches in the ordering process--now hopefully ironed out. I'm also told that there's a time lag in CreateSpace's reporting. But I still would have expected more of a spike that I've noticed to date and I'm concerned by what seems like a discrepancy between the stats and the feedback I've been getting. But I don't have my own numbers, not even bare estimates. So you'd be doing me a great favor if you'd simply drop a line to my email address (peterclothier@mac.com) to let me know 1) if you placed an order and received a copy; or 2) if you tried to place an order and gave up in despair. That information would be very useful as I persist in my efforts, so my best thanks in advance if you have it in your heart to help.
I'd also love to hear from you if you have a readership with whom you'd like to share some thoughts about Slow Looking. I still have a (rather limited!) number of review copies to send out, so please feel free to ask.
I have often expressed my gratitude for your readership when posting on The Buddha Diaries, but it bears repeating. I have been writing for many years and have published in many different arenas, but it gives me more pleasure than I can say to know that there are hundreds of people throughout the world who check in on these pages, whether regularly or only on occasion. To know that I can actually publish what I write on any given day and that what I have written will be read on seven continents still seems miraculous, and continues to provide me with a somewhat incredulous thrill. I send out metta to all, along with my gratitude...
This has been my first experience with POD (publish on demand) self-publishing, so I'm more than ever aware that it's this kind of support that's needed if a book is to rise above the horizon line in today's saturated market--and I hope it goes without saying that it's the ideas I'm interested in spreading, not the commerce! One thing that's puzzling to me is the stats on CreateSpace. As I've noted before, there have been annoying glitches in the ordering process--now hopefully ironed out. I'm also told that there's a time lag in CreateSpace's reporting. But I still would have expected more of a spike that I've noticed to date and I'm concerned by what seems like a discrepancy between the stats and the feedback I've been getting. But I don't have my own numbers, not even bare estimates. So you'd be doing me a great favor if you'd simply drop a line to my email address (peterclothier@mac.com) to let me know 1) if you placed an order and received a copy; or 2) if you tried to place an order and gave up in despair. That information would be very useful as I persist in my efforts, so my best thanks in advance if you have it in your heart to help.
I'd also love to hear from you if you have a readership with whom you'd like to share some thoughts about Slow Looking. I still have a (rather limited!) number of review copies to send out, so please feel free to ask.
I have often expressed my gratitude for your readership when posting on The Buddha Diaries, but it bears repeating. I have been writing for many years and have published in many different arenas, but it gives me more pleasure than I can say to know that there are hundreds of people throughout the world who check in on these pages, whether regularly or only on occasion. To know that I can actually publish what I write on any given day and that what I have written will be read on seven continents still seems miraculous, and continues to provide me with a somewhat incredulous thrill. I send out metta to all, along with my gratitude...
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Blogging: The Buddha Diaries
A couple of responses to my entry yesterday (thank you!) set me to thinking, not for the first time, about what I'm doing here on The Buddha Diaries. I have thought about it primarily as a "writing practice," not unlike my meditation practice: something I just do (almost) every day without having to worry too much about what I'm doing or whether I have anything "to say." It has been a great way to be the writer I have been throughout my life, minus the concerns about publishing: where to publish, who the readers are, how much to get paid--most often barely, or not at all. The Buddha Diaries--and The Bush Diaries that preceded it--have given me the opportunity to be the amateur, in that good, old sense of the word: a person free from any and all obligations, who does it simply out of the passion for getting it done.
But yesterday the word "wondering"* came to mind. I like the two associations of the word: To wonder means not only to ask questions but to stand in awe. I have known since leaving academia twenty years ago that I am not a teacher--or only incidentally. I do not set out to tell anyone what I know, or think I know, because they don't know it. I tend instead to marvel at the world and the fact that I have some small place in it and ask my questions not out of existenial angst, I think, but out of curiosity about my own humanity and that of those with whom I share this planet; and out of the sense that, through honest and scrupulous self-examination, I can become a better, perhaps even a wiser human being and thus live a fuller, more rewarding life.
What appeals to me about Buddhism is less what it teaches than what it asks me to learn. I love its practicality and practicability. For me--and perhaps this is why I resist embracing it as a religion--it's not about shoulds and ought-to's, beliefs and tenets, but rather about what works and what doesn't, what produces healthy results and what leads to more unwanted suffering. As I suggested yesterday, there are realities with which I continue to struggle: even though I "know" the answers, I keep struggling with questions. I learn, and something comes along to remind me that I have forgotten what I learned, and I have to learn it all over again. It seems to me that this is simply human.
The Buddha Diaires, then, at its best--for me, at least--offers me a place where I can look out at the world and my own place in it, and ask those questions, and learn those things about myself and about the world, and forget them, and learn them over again. It's a place where I don't want to pretend to "know" anything, but where I can find provisional understandings that serve me for a moment; a process that uses medium (language) to find out what it is I need to say, with the understanding that I may easily contradict myself the following day. It pleases me more than I can say to know that I have friends out there who want to read this stuff and who take the time to think about it and respond. It's the ultimate reward for any writer, and I am happy to have found a place where I can be true to myself without constraint or embarrassment and still find those who are willing to go along the path with me.
*In this context, a note: My nephew, Naftali, now approaching his mid years, has just started a blog called The Wandering Jewish Dreamer. It was originally called "The Wondering Jewish Dreamer"--I suspect a typo, but I liked the confusion of the two ideas, one an old cliche, the other perhaps a truth about the author... Naftali, an Israeli sabra by birth but American since schooldays, has always been a wanderer. At present, he's in Prague, thinking about returning to Israel for a spell, then back to Prague before coming "home" to the United States. I'll be interested to see where his wandering--and his wondering--takes him!
But yesterday the word "wondering"* came to mind. I like the two associations of the word: To wonder means not only to ask questions but to stand in awe. I have known since leaving academia twenty years ago that I am not a teacher--or only incidentally. I do not set out to tell anyone what I know, or think I know, because they don't know it. I tend instead to marvel at the world and the fact that I have some small place in it and ask my questions not out of existenial angst, I think, but out of curiosity about my own humanity and that of those with whom I share this planet; and out of the sense that, through honest and scrupulous self-examination, I can become a better, perhaps even a wiser human being and thus live a fuller, more rewarding life.
What appeals to me about Buddhism is less what it teaches than what it asks me to learn. I love its practicality and practicability. For me--and perhaps this is why I resist embracing it as a religion--it's not about shoulds and ought-to's, beliefs and tenets, but rather about what works and what doesn't, what produces healthy results and what leads to more unwanted suffering. As I suggested yesterday, there are realities with which I continue to struggle: even though I "know" the answers, I keep struggling with questions. I learn, and something comes along to remind me that I have forgotten what I learned, and I have to learn it all over again. It seems to me that this is simply human.
The Buddha Diaires, then, at its best--for me, at least--offers me a place where I can look out at the world and my own place in it, and ask those questions, and learn those things about myself and about the world, and forget them, and learn them over again. It's a place where I don't want to pretend to "know" anything, but where I can find provisional understandings that serve me for a moment; a process that uses medium (language) to find out what it is I need to say, with the understanding that I may easily contradict myself the following day. It pleases me more than I can say to know that I have friends out there who want to read this stuff and who take the time to think about it and respond. It's the ultimate reward for any writer, and I am happy to have found a place where I can be true to myself without constraint or embarrassment and still find those who are willing to go along the path with me.
*In this context, a note: My nephew, Naftali, now approaching his mid years, has just started a blog called The Wandering Jewish Dreamer. It was originally called "The Wondering Jewish Dreamer"--I suspect a typo, but I liked the confusion of the two ideas, one an old cliche, the other perhaps a truth about the author... Naftali, an Israeli sabra by birth but American since schooldays, has always been a wanderer. At present, he's in Prague, thinking about returning to Israel for a spell, then back to Prague before coming "home" to the United States. I'll be interested to see where his wandering--and his wondering--takes him!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
9/11
I plan to dedicate my morning meditation to those who died and their survivors; to the brave rescue workers; and to all those who suffered, and still suffer from the long-lasting effects of this dreadful day seven years ago...
It also seems like a good day to bring you my friend Mark, a student in Missouri, a double major in Religion and Philosophy, who has just restarted his blog Marko Polo after a summer break. Here's a young man who takes his religion seriously enough to keep asking the probing questions, and who stands up for what he believes in. In his entry yesterday he "confessed" to being VP of his university's Students for Barack Obama, and took the risk of exposing some of his fears and judgments. He wrote, eloquently:
It's a source of pleasure and not a little pride to have readers like Mark tuning in to The Buddha Diaries on a regular basis. Where he lives, it's not so easy to be a supporter of Barack Obama as it is here in (mostly) liberal California and (seriously) liberal Hollywood. Thanks for reminding me, Mark, that it sometimes takes courage to put out your political beliefs in a public way. I'm not a Christian, but when I meet Christians like you I take heart in the reminder that your religion, the one I myself was brought up with, is about the compassionate teachings of a wise and courageous leader--a true "maverick", who put his life on the line to challenge the tired old truths and usher in some new ones!
It also seems like a good day to bring you my friend Mark, a student in Missouri, a double major in Religion and Philosophy, who has just restarted his blog Marko Polo after a summer break. Here's a young man who takes his religion seriously enough to keep asking the probing questions, and who stands up for what he believes in. In his entry yesterday he "confessed" to being VP of his university's Students for Barack Obama, and took the risk of exposing some of his fears and judgments. He wrote, eloquently:
I'm really plagued with anxiety about it all. Today I had about three students try to rip off the Obama sticker I sported proudly on my shirt all day. One of them said, "Obama is GAY!!!!" To which I responded somewhat snarkily, "Oh man! Don't tell his wife and kids!" Another straight up said to me, "I'm gonna impress my political views on you whether you like it or not!" Again, I replied curtly, "And that's why you're a Republican." Fifty bucks says none of the people who tried to rip the sticker off of my shirt have done any research into why they're going to vote for McCain or why they hate Obama.The other day I saw a bumper sticker on the back of a car that said, "NObama," which I'm fine with (outside of really detesting most negative campaigning). Freedom of speech is a good thing. Upon further inspection, I wanted to punch the window out of the car that had the bumper sticker attached to it. Instead of the field of red and white with a sun rising over it that represents Obama's campaign, there was instead a blue Muslim star and crescent. How ignorant can you be?!?! Not only is that straight up wrong, but it's hateful to a perfectly beautiful religion.
It's a source of pleasure and not a little pride to have readers like Mark tuning in to The Buddha Diaries on a regular basis. Where he lives, it's not so easy to be a supporter of Barack Obama as it is here in (mostly) liberal California and (seriously) liberal Hollywood. Thanks for reminding me, Mark, that it sometimes takes courage to put out your political beliefs in a public way. I'm not a Christian, but when I meet Christians like you I take heart in the reminder that your religion, the one I myself was brought up with, is about the compassionate teachings of a wise and courageous leader--a true "maverick", who put his life on the line to challenge the tired old truths and usher in some new ones!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
I Have a Question...
... this morning. I'm in a bit of a quandary, and would love to hear the wisdom and experience of readers of The Buddha Diaries--most of whom, I assume, are fellow-bloggers.
Here's the context: I need to take a vacation. I started blogging shortly after the November, 2004 presidential election. I was in shock and disbelief that the American electorate had "re-elected" (I still don't believe Ohio) the current occupant of the White House, and wanted to "do something." Writing is the only thing I know how to do, and I fell into the blogosphere like Alice through the looking-glass. I started with The Bush Diaries, and when I tired of waking up with that man in bed with me every morning, I switched to The Buddha Diaries. Altogether, it has been nearly four years of almost daily entries.
And now I worry about taking a vacation. In part, it's the old, irrational writer's problem that I'm sure many of us are familiar with: if I don't get up and write this morning, will I ever be able to do it again? Will I lose motivation and momentum? Will I lose my thread? It's that compulsion, that fear, that insecurity about doing something so totally beyond the norms of profession and career, so much about the inner rather than the outer necessities. I recognize all that and live with it. You can't help me there.
The other part has to do with blogging, and there you might well have wisdom and experience that could be valuable, if you'd be willing to share it. My concern is about the momentum of the blog itself. I have been fortunate in putting together a wonderful readership over the years, and have this superstitious feeling that unless I continue to up the ante on a daily basis, I risk losing the interest and support of you good people out-there.
So here's my question: what's your experience of taking a long-ish vacation? I'm talking three-four weeks. As I've mentioned here before, Ellie and I are taking a road trip up north with George the dog, while work continues on our cottage down here in Laguna Beach. I'll likely be writing along the way--I'm thinking something along the lines of "On the Road with George." (John Steinbeck did something similar with Charley: I have his book on order from the library.) But I think I want to relieve myself of that sense of daily necessity, which those who follow The Buddha Diaries will know about from past travels, when I have dutifully made my entries every day that I find access to the Internet. I want, in a way, to liberate myself, to wake up in the morning and, er... lie in bed. Listen to the birds. Without needing to gather thoughts to punch into my laptop.
What's your experience? Did your readership lag? How did you set about building the blog again, on your return? Was it hard to get back? I'd love to know...
Here's the context: I need to take a vacation. I started blogging shortly after the November, 2004 presidential election. I was in shock and disbelief that the American electorate had "re-elected" (I still don't believe Ohio) the current occupant of the White House, and wanted to "do something." Writing is the only thing I know how to do, and I fell into the blogosphere like Alice through the looking-glass. I started with The Bush Diaries, and when I tired of waking up with that man in bed with me every morning, I switched to The Buddha Diaries. Altogether, it has been nearly four years of almost daily entries.
And now I worry about taking a vacation. In part, it's the old, irrational writer's problem that I'm sure many of us are familiar with: if I don't get up and write this morning, will I ever be able to do it again? Will I lose motivation and momentum? Will I lose my thread? It's that compulsion, that fear, that insecurity about doing something so totally beyond the norms of profession and career, so much about the inner rather than the outer necessities. I recognize all that and live with it. You can't help me there.
The other part has to do with blogging, and there you might well have wisdom and experience that could be valuable, if you'd be willing to share it. My concern is about the momentum of the blog itself. I have been fortunate in putting together a wonderful readership over the years, and have this superstitious feeling that unless I continue to up the ante on a daily basis, I risk losing the interest and support of you good people out-there.
So here's my question: what's your experience of taking a long-ish vacation? I'm talking three-four weeks. As I've mentioned here before, Ellie and I are taking a road trip up north with George the dog, while work continues on our cottage down here in Laguna Beach. I'll likely be writing along the way--I'm thinking something along the lines of "On the Road with George." (John Steinbeck did something similar with Charley: I have his book on order from the library.) But I think I want to relieve myself of that sense of daily necessity, which those who follow The Buddha Diaries will know about from past travels, when I have dutifully made my entries every day that I find access to the Internet. I want, in a way, to liberate myself, to wake up in the morning and, er... lie in bed. Listen to the birds. Without needing to gather thoughts to punch into my laptop.
What's your experience? Did your readership lag? How did you set about building the blog again, on your return? Was it hard to get back? I'd love to know...
Monday, April 14, 2008
Humming Along...
On our morning walk this Monday, George and I were accompanied by a hummingbird, who seemed inordinately interested in us. He came upon us first by accident, zipping across our path. But then he stopped in mid-flight, hovering for a moment and pivoting on an axis to turn and look back at us. Apparently we seemed of interest, because he dropped in closer, a few feet from the ground, and came back to take a closer look, hovering again at eye level, holding steady, curious--so I thought--about who we were and what we might be doing in his territory. And out and back a few times more before deciding there were better things to do that stare at the human and the canine species.
I have another few busy days ahead of me. This afternoon, on our return to Los Angeles, I have another two interviews with artists, then two more tomorrow, in connection with my next "Art of Outrage" piece. Then there's the work of stitching all the various sound pieces together into a hopefully coherent podcast. This episode is based on "Phantom Sightings," the current "post-Chicano" show at the Los Angeles County Museum. It's always fascinating, exploring new territories in the art world, and it's a long time since I caught up with what's happening in this particular area; but at the same time, demanding on the time and energy I have at my disposal. "The Buddha Diaries" has had short shrift these past few days, and will likely go neglected for the next few, too. I'm missing my wanderings in cyberspace...
I have another few busy days ahead of me. This afternoon, on our return to Los Angeles, I have another two interviews with artists, then two more tomorrow, in connection with my next "Art of Outrage" piece. Then there's the work of stitching all the various sound pieces together into a hopefully coherent podcast. This episode is based on "Phantom Sightings," the current "post-Chicano" show at the Los Angeles County Museum. It's always fascinating, exploring new territories in the art world, and it's a long time since I caught up with what's happening in this particular area; but at the same time, demanding on the time and energy I have at my disposal. "The Buddha Diaries" has had short shrift these past few days, and will likely go neglected for the next few, too. I'm missing my wanderings in cyberspace...
Friday, April 11, 2008
Peter Saul, Painter
It has been, as predicted, an unusually busy week. I have been working to assemble not one but two hour-long segments in my "Art of Outrage" series for Artscene Visual Radio, and have had a rather hectic schedule of recorded telephone interviews. Yesterday I spoke to two artists and a museum curator, and today I have a follow-up call with one of the artists, Peter Saul, and another museum curator. It's all interesting and lively, but it means that I don't get around to thinking about The Buddha Diaries and the blogosphere as much as I would like.
I have admired Peter Saul's work for many years. In fact, I have lived with an early work of his--a large-ish untitled 1960 pastel drawing--on the wall of my house. Ellie and I first borrowed, then inherited it from her parents, who bought it at a long-defunct Los Angeles gallery probably around the time that it was made. Like all of Saul's work, it is lively, energetic, full of spontaneous humor, and thoroughly engaging to the eye. After at least twenty, and perhaps even thirty years, I continue to explore it with the same pleasure, and never fail to find something new in it to surprise me.
In the line of the German expressionist artist, Georg Grosz, Saul is unafraid to jump into politics and social issues with both feet. He lampoons politicians, plutocrats, exploiters of human frailties of all sorts with unabashed zest. At one level, his work is cheerfully scatalogical, erotic, finger-pointing, satirical, parodic, absurd... all in a joyful welter of color and image that imposes itself rudely on the viewer's eye and skewers his cherished prejudices and beliefs.
What I discovered yesterday, somewhat to my surprise, is that his impulse is not primarily one of outrage. He was clear, in our conversation, that he is primarily a painter, doing what all painters do--that is, indulging their own inner need to put paint on canvas and shove it around to create an object to his own satisfaction. What's likely to come out is what's on his mind, and for Saul that has to do with his observations of what's happening in the world around him. It's not so much a matter of coming up with a political statement about, say, the incompetence and inanities of George W. Bush, as it is of having fun with paint on canvas with George W. Bush featured as its subject. Far from being angry with Bush, as many of us are, Saul expressed his infinite gratitude to the current occupant of the White House for providing him with an endless source of material.
(He had fun from Ronald Reagan, too. I purloined this image from the George Adams Gallery website.)
(He had fun from Ronald Reagan, too. I purloined this image from the George Adams Gallery website.)
Talking to him, I found that sense of fun extraordinarily appealing--and refreshing. That attitude does tend to put it all into perspective. When you get right down to it, the important thing is for each of us to do what's given us to do to the best of our ability. Which is why I play around with words in something of the same spirit, I hope, as Saul plays around with paint. It's a matter of each of us using our given medium to find out what it is we need to say.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Oh, and...
... while we're at it, it pays to take a moment to look at these wonderful photographs from Africa by the Spanish photographer Ana Yturralde on her whimsically entitled blog, Where My Owl Flies Free and the Lion Roars Wild. For those of us who know little of the continent besides what we read in the press and see on our television screens, these portraits provide and intimate and dimensionally human view of her subjects, and her notes provide an interesting context. Well worth the visit. I found Ana in the comments at I AM KATIA.
The Buddha Diaries Travels--and Comes Home...
... to the blogosphere.
I find these days that there are many things that are hard about traveling. Many joys, too, of course. But one of the hard things is leaving, and another is coming home. I come home with the hope of finding a still point, where the traveling stops, somewhere the spirit finds a familiar place to rest and take its ease.
All of which is a part of my experience--the good part. The bad part is finding a mountainous stack of mail to be sorted, bills to be paid, junk mail to be thrown out. It's trying to play catch-up with dozens of neglected emails, getting back to jobs that were left unfinished, tying up the loose ends of the journey, finding a place for all those airline stubs and credit card receipts, the brochures you've picked up along the way and now can't quite bring yourself to discard because they may secrete some important piece of evidence that your memory will surely lose by the time you come to need it. It's finding the house in small but annoying states of disarray, things not there where you're absolutely sure you left them, light bulbs mysteriously blown in your absence and needing replacement, that little pile of termite droppings you had never noticed in the past...
And yes, the neglected tasks you like to think of as your "work." I have fallen far behind in my commitments, and find myself faced with the prospect of scrambling to fulfill the most essential and letting go of those "shoulds" the plague the conscience. While traveling, even though I managed to keep up with the writing of these pages, I neglected my not-quite-daily rounds of other blogs, the community of like-minded scribblers whose efforts are a constant source of surprising information, humanity, and fun.
I dove back into the blogosphere for a while yesterday and surfaced, as usual, with some pearls. Like Primordial Blog, whose subtitle is the delightfully Bushian "Making the World a Little Less Stupider." Nothing less Bushy than this blog, however, which is the brain-child of a reformed "BibleThumper and Young Earth Creationist"--now, thankfully for the rest of us, "a proud member of the reality-based community." Try this entry for a taste of post-religious fervor.
For a more than slightly salacious---but literate! and witty!--take on life, visit the irrepressible Glamourpuss at The Pole Affair. This pole-dancer/trapeze artist does... er, swing! And how's this for an astutely-phrased oedipal insight: "School was a complicated place for me. My father expected me to do better than everybody else, except him. " Puss falls a lot, it seems, but is always ready to bounce back and learn. Her other blog is the surprisingly lyrical Clairvoyance.
And finally, for today, there's The Dragon's Eye, where you'll have fun, as I did, with Kiyotoe, who has a sharp eye for a photograph with a story to tell--and tells his own story to accompany it in a few funny, sometimes poignant, always precise words.
I wouldn't call these exactly Buddhist blogs. But bring a Buddhist mind to them and I think you'll be surprised how much they have to teach.
I find these days that there are many things that are hard about traveling. Many joys, too, of course. But one of the hard things is leaving, and another is coming home. I come home with the hope of finding a still point, where the traveling stops, somewhere the spirit finds a familiar place to rest and take its ease.
All of which is a part of my experience--the good part. The bad part is finding a mountainous stack of mail to be sorted, bills to be paid, junk mail to be thrown out. It's trying to play catch-up with dozens of neglected emails, getting back to jobs that were left unfinished, tying up the loose ends of the journey, finding a place for all those airline stubs and credit card receipts, the brochures you've picked up along the way and now can't quite bring yourself to discard because they may secrete some important piece of evidence that your memory will surely lose by the time you come to need it. It's finding the house in small but annoying states of disarray, things not there where you're absolutely sure you left them, light bulbs mysteriously blown in your absence and needing replacement, that little pile of termite droppings you had never noticed in the past...
And yes, the neglected tasks you like to think of as your "work." I have fallen far behind in my commitments, and find myself faced with the prospect of scrambling to fulfill the most essential and letting go of those "shoulds" the plague the conscience. While traveling, even though I managed to keep up with the writing of these pages, I neglected my not-quite-daily rounds of other blogs, the community of like-minded scribblers whose efforts are a constant source of surprising information, humanity, and fun.
I dove back into the blogosphere for a while yesterday and surfaced, as usual, with some pearls. Like Primordial Blog, whose subtitle is the delightfully Bushian "Making the World a Little Less Stupider." Nothing less Bushy than this blog, however, which is the brain-child of a reformed "BibleThumper and Young Earth Creationist"--now, thankfully for the rest of us, "a proud member of the reality-based community." Try this entry for a taste of post-religious fervor.
For a more than slightly salacious---but literate! and witty!--take on life, visit the irrepressible Glamourpuss at The Pole Affair. This pole-dancer/trapeze artist does... er, swing! And how's this for an astutely-phrased oedipal insight: "School was a complicated place for me. My father expected me to do better than everybody else, except him. " Puss falls a lot, it seems, but is always ready to bounce back and learn. Her other blog is the surprisingly lyrical Clairvoyance.
And finally, for today, there's The Dragon's Eye, where you'll have fun, as I did, with Kiyotoe, who has a sharp eye for a photograph with a story to tell--and tells his own story to accompany it in a few funny, sometimes poignant, always precise words.
I wouldn't call these exactly Buddhist blogs. But bring a Buddhist mind to them and I think you'll be surprised how much they have to teach.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Hands Across the Water...
(The following words were written and posted before I turned on the television and heard news of the assassination of Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan. Another dreadful event in the bloody history of our contemporary world, and one which only underscores our pressing need to expand the community of those dedicated to peace and goodwill.)
Heartfelt thanks to those who have sent greetings, online and off, in the past few days. The cockles of my heart--whatever they may be--have been duly warmed. People with their own strange agendas may find it convenient to argue amongst themselves about what festival or season it's appropriate to celebrate. I say, bring 'em on--though in a different context from that man who poses as our president.
I know that we have exchanged views, this past year, on the nature of this peculiar community the Internet affords us; and I share a bit of the skepticism of those who worry that it's too safe to hide behind our computers where we have only the illusion of being truly in touch with others. Rather than bringing us together, there is the danger that this medium can isolate us still further in this often alienating age.
But then I find readers--and read blogs--from the furthest reaches of the world, from London and Copenhagen, Singapore and Sydney, Australia, from Bangkok and New Delhi and Cape Town and Lima, Peru, and I imagine a meeting of minds that could occur in no other imaginable way. And at such moments I feel like I'm part of a groundswell of potential, of a growing community of human beings who are not satisfied with our lack of mutual understanding or with the greed that threatens to destroy our planet.
And it seems to me that the "spirit of Christmas," with its message of "peace and goodwill toward men"--that must have been in the days before women were invented!--is still alive and thriving at least in this one small corner of the vast blogosphere that I occupy, and likely too in many more. And I feel privileged to be a part of it, to know that my voice is heard and that its particular and individual sound can resonate with others, whose thoughts and feelings coincide with mine.
Perhaps, I find myself thinking at such moments, we are part of a vast and growing conspiracy of human beings--not left-wing nor right, not black or white, not gay or straight, not American or Indonesian or Chinese or Italian--whose collective thoughts and efforts may indeed conjoin and work together to heal this ailing planet through the collective power of our sanity, our struggle to adhere to a sound, mutually beneficial moral clarity, and our commitment, each to the truth of our individual experience.
I heard once that the Quichol Indians in Mexico, instead of giving their new babies a name, ask first of the newborn: "Tell me who you are." That. for me, is the lovely, fundamental practice of those whose blogs I value most: through what they write, they tell me who they are. Just as, through The Buddha Dairies, I discover (almost!) daily more of my own humanity and hope to share that human part of me with the world.
Heartfelt thanks to those who have sent greetings, online and off, in the past few days. The cockles of my heart--whatever they may be--have been duly warmed. People with their own strange agendas may find it convenient to argue amongst themselves about what festival or season it's appropriate to celebrate. I say, bring 'em on--though in a different context from that man who poses as our president.
I know that we have exchanged views, this past year, on the nature of this peculiar community the Internet affords us; and I share a bit of the skepticism of those who worry that it's too safe to hide behind our computers where we have only the illusion of being truly in touch with others. Rather than bringing us together, there is the danger that this medium can isolate us still further in this often alienating age.
But then I find readers--and read blogs--from the furthest reaches of the world, from London and Copenhagen, Singapore and Sydney, Australia, from Bangkok and New Delhi and Cape Town and Lima, Peru, and I imagine a meeting of minds that could occur in no other imaginable way. And at such moments I feel like I'm part of a groundswell of potential, of a growing community of human beings who are not satisfied with our lack of mutual understanding or with the greed that threatens to destroy our planet.
And it seems to me that the "spirit of Christmas," with its message of "peace and goodwill toward men"--that must have been in the days before women were invented!--is still alive and thriving at least in this one small corner of the vast blogosphere that I occupy, and likely too in many more. And I feel privileged to be a part of it, to know that my voice is heard and that its particular and individual sound can resonate with others, whose thoughts and feelings coincide with mine.
Perhaps, I find myself thinking at such moments, we are part of a vast and growing conspiracy of human beings--not left-wing nor right, not black or white, not gay or straight, not American or Indonesian or Chinese or Italian--whose collective thoughts and efforts may indeed conjoin and work together to heal this ailing planet through the collective power of our sanity, our struggle to adhere to a sound, mutually beneficial moral clarity, and our commitment, each to the truth of our individual experience.
I heard once that the Quichol Indians in Mexico, instead of giving their new babies a name, ask first of the newborn: "Tell me who you are." That. for me, is the lovely, fundamental practice of those whose blogs I value most: through what they write, they tell me who they are. Just as, through The Buddha Dairies, I discover (almost!) daily more of my own humanity and hope to share that human part of me with the world.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
The Buddha Diaries Recommends
Click here to read The Buddha Diaries review of "An Arrow to the Heart: a Commentary on The Heart Sutra" by Ken McLeod.
Thanks to this article by RJ Eskow in the current Tricycle (I think you have to subscribe to the online magazine if you want to read the whole article, but the magazine itself is a wonderful investment: consider this a plug!), we at The Buddha Diaries have been thinking a bit about Buddhism and blogging, and whether the twain should meet. Before The Buddha Diaires there was The Bush Diaries, the political blog that Peter started---like RJ Eskow--immediately following the 2004 re-election, and for the same reasons. Something had to be done, and the only thing I knew how to do was write. You'll find some further thoughts on the matter--and on the Democratic presidential race on Eskow's Huffington Post blog. It's an interesting debate, and one in which I engage every time I feel moved to respond, in these pages, to political events.
Cardozo, meanwhile, my trusty sidekick, turned up this wonderful site, where a bona fide warrior with a conscience fights the good fight against the senseless spilling of blood. Cardozo writes:
Pen and Sword
Jeff Huber, a retired U.S. Navy Commander, has been blogging about the Iraq War and other misadventures of the Bush administration since 2005. The voluminous archives of Pen and Sword exist as a compelling database of the illogicalities and deceptions that have characterized Bush II.
As Huber wrote in the blog's introductory post, by pursuing a "fist-first approach to shaping the rest of the world in our image, [we may] collapse under the weight of our own hubris..."
Pen and Sword is driven by a passion born from patriotism, and tempered by an encyclopedic knowledge of national security issues. The blog url (zenhuber.blogspot.com) hints at a connection to Buddhist thought, but we could find no confirmation of this apparent influence within the posts themselves. Perhaps Mr. Huber leaves it to the reader to draw the natural link between Buddhist teaching and his unflinching critiques of the neo-cons' propagation of war and U.S. global dominance.
Please drop in at Pen and Sword to pay a visit to this military man with two boots planted firmly on the ground.
To which Peter merely adds, Amen.
Thanks to this article by RJ Eskow in the current Tricycle (I think you have to subscribe to the online magazine if you want to read the whole article, but the magazine itself is a wonderful investment: consider this a plug!), we at The Buddha Diaries have been thinking a bit about Buddhism and blogging, and whether the twain should meet. Before The Buddha Diaires there was The Bush Diaries, the political blog that Peter started---like RJ Eskow--immediately following the 2004 re-election, and for the same reasons. Something had to be done, and the only thing I knew how to do was write. You'll find some further thoughts on the matter--and on the Democratic presidential race on Eskow's Huffington Post blog. It's an interesting debate, and one in which I engage every time I feel moved to respond, in these pages, to political events.
Cardozo, meanwhile, my trusty sidekick, turned up this wonderful site, where a bona fide warrior with a conscience fights the good fight against the senseless spilling of blood. Cardozo writes:
Pen and Sword
Jeff Huber, a retired U.S. Navy Commander, has been blogging about the Iraq War and other misadventures of the Bush administration since 2005. The voluminous archives of Pen and Sword exist as a compelling database of the illogicalities and deceptions that have characterized Bush II.
As Huber wrote in the blog's introductory post, by pursuing a "fist-first approach to shaping the rest of the world in our image, [we may] collapse under the weight of our own hubris..."
Pen and Sword is driven by a passion born from patriotism, and tempered by an encyclopedic knowledge of national security issues. The blog url (zenhuber.blogspot.com) hints at a connection to Buddhist thought, but we could find no confirmation of this apparent influence within the posts themselves. Perhaps Mr. Huber leaves it to the reader to draw the natural link between Buddhist teaching and his unflinching critiques of the neo-cons' propagation of war and U.S. global dominance.
Please drop in at Pen and Sword to pay a visit to this military man with two boots planted firmly on the ground.
To which Peter merely adds, Amen.
Monday, December 3, 2007
The Buddha Diaries: Why Blog?
So Robin over at The Dharma Bums is worried that her blog "has no direction or purpose," and wonders if they should change the name because it rightly belongs to Kerouac. I say no. I say they have earned the name with their wonderful ramblings through life and nature, their astute observations with both word and camera, the love their blog puts out into the world. I say they are the rightful owners of the name they have chosen to adopt.
In an offline exchange of emails--I'm sure she won't mind my sharing this--Robin worried about the way we risk hiding our humanity behind our blogs, that the virtual "community" can become a way of NOT sharing our humanity, but rather sacrificing it to the seduction of a few electronic impulses. I do see what she means. For myself, though, I see The Buddha Diaries as another, rather special way of sending out metta into the world. It thrills me that I have readers who check in from every continent--I even have a world map above the desk in my office, where colored pins show the locations of visitors and readers. At this point, it's a veritable pincushion. A kind of vanity, I suppose, but it delights me. It gives me the sense of the potential outreach of this metta I send out, and I believe that The Dharma Bums send out metta of their own, their own goodwill and loving-kindness, along with all those other like-minded bloggers who are dedicated to the examination of their lives in the context of the world we're given to live in. To be even a small part of this global chorus is, for me, enough purpose and direction.
I do think of it, too, as a community. I understand that it is no substitute for personal, human contact. In my own daily metta practice, as an essential part of meditation, after family, I never fail to include three groups of people: the members of our Sunday sangha, our little meditation group; the artists that Ellie and I meet with in our monthly "Artists' Matters" sessions; and the men I have worked with over the years in The ManKind Project. I send out metta, too, to those fellow bloggers I have come to think of as a community. While I have met none of you "in the flesh," you keep showing me new parts of your heart and spirit every time you write, and I value what I read.
So, Robin, if you'll forgive this direct address, you and Roger ARE the Dharma Bums to me. I do hope that you'll not change names, but the name matters less than the spirit behind what you do. That's something I'd be really sorry to lose.
In an offline exchange of emails--I'm sure she won't mind my sharing this--Robin worried about the way we risk hiding our humanity behind our blogs, that the virtual "community" can become a way of NOT sharing our humanity, but rather sacrificing it to the seduction of a few electronic impulses. I do see what she means. For myself, though, I see The Buddha Diaries as another, rather special way of sending out metta into the world. It thrills me that I have readers who check in from every continent--I even have a world map above the desk in my office, where colored pins show the locations of visitors and readers. At this point, it's a veritable pincushion. A kind of vanity, I suppose, but it delights me. It gives me the sense of the potential outreach of this metta I send out, and I believe that The Dharma Bums send out metta of their own, their own goodwill and loving-kindness, along with all those other like-minded bloggers who are dedicated to the examination of their lives in the context of the world we're given to live in. To be even a small part of this global chorus is, for me, enough purpose and direction.
I do think of it, too, as a community. I understand that it is no substitute for personal, human contact. In my own daily metta practice, as an essential part of meditation, after family, I never fail to include three groups of people: the members of our Sunday sangha, our little meditation group; the artists that Ellie and I meet with in our monthly "Artists' Matters" sessions; and the men I have worked with over the years in The ManKind Project. I send out metta, too, to those fellow bloggers I have come to think of as a community. While I have met none of you "in the flesh," you keep showing me new parts of your heart and spirit every time you write, and I value what I read.
So, Robin, if you'll forgive this direct address, you and Roger ARE the Dharma Bums to me. I do hope that you'll not change names, but the name matters less than the spirit behind what you do. That's something I'd be really sorry to lose.
Friday, November 30, 2007
The Buddha Diaries: Hows, Whats and Whys
My friend Mark over at Marko Polo invited me to participate in his survey of Buddhist blogs. As I answered his questions, I realized that he'd given me the opportunity to take a quick snapshot of The Buddha Diaries and what it's all about. Here are Mark's questions, and my answers.
Buddhist Blog Questionnaire
1. How did you get acquainted with the teachings of the Buddha?
I grew up as the son of an Anglican (Church of England) minister, and my entire education was in Christian private schools. I was thoroughly indoctrinated in my youth, and abandoned all interest in the church—and in Christianity—by the time I was eighteen. I had no interest in religion of any kind until I was about fifty years old. At the time, my daughter was in the grip of a terrible disease (she has since recovered, thank you!) and I needed some more substantial anchor in my life. A friend recommended Soka Gakkai Buddhism—the branch that is based in chanting—and I was attracted to it because I was convinced that I could never simply sit in silent meditation, and chanting gave me something to “do”. A couple of years later, at an Esalen Institute workshop, I was turned on to Ram Dass, and soon discovered Pema Chrodron, whose book “When Things Fall Apart” spoke loudly to my situation. It was at this time that I first embarked on silent meditation, and soon joined a weekly sitting group to support my early practice.
2. What, if any, religion or philosophy do you associate yourself with currently? Could you describe your faith a bit?
I “associate myself” with Buddhism—but without calling myself a Buddhist. It’s more of a practice than a faith, because it doesn’t require me to believe in anything that I can’t actually put to the test through experience. My skeptical mind shies away from faith. I’m with Missouri: Show Me!
3. Which of the Buddhist teachings do you find most valuable in your everyday life? Why?
Breath meditation. Because it helps me train and stabilize the mind, and find some inner peace. Also the Eightfold Path (see Accesstoinsight.org.) It’s a practical guide on how to lead my life with integrity.
4. Describe your blog. What is your approach to writing? Who is your intended audience? What issues does your blog tend to focus on, be they Buddhist or otherwise?
The Buddha Diaries is a meditation on the events of my life seen through the lens of the Buddhist meditation practice. It covers everything from George the dog to George W. Bush, from books I read and movies that I see to travels and family. It’s a way of examining my life—and the life of the mind—as I continue on my journey through life, and its intended audience is anyone who shares my passion to lead an “examined life.” I’m not trying to convert anyone to Buddhist thought or practice, nor to preach the Buddhist gospel (if there were one.)
My writing, like my meditation, is a practice. I do it virtually every day as a means of remaining conscious and taking stock of where I am. The great adage that I learned years ago and have always followed is an old one: How do I know what I think ‘til I see what I say? Writing is an adventure of the mind, a means of self-discovery, a continuing journey. The fact that, through The Buddha Diaries, I have found many who want to share it with me is a source of endless pleasure and satisfaction.
Buddhist Blog Questionnaire
1. How did you get acquainted with the teachings of the Buddha?
I grew up as the son of an Anglican (Church of England) minister, and my entire education was in Christian private schools. I was thoroughly indoctrinated in my youth, and abandoned all interest in the church—and in Christianity—by the time I was eighteen. I had no interest in religion of any kind until I was about fifty years old. At the time, my daughter was in the grip of a terrible disease (she has since recovered, thank you!) and I needed some more substantial anchor in my life. A friend recommended Soka Gakkai Buddhism—the branch that is based in chanting—and I was attracted to it because I was convinced that I could never simply sit in silent meditation, and chanting gave me something to “do”. A couple of years later, at an Esalen Institute workshop, I was turned on to Ram Dass, and soon discovered Pema Chrodron, whose book “When Things Fall Apart” spoke loudly to my situation. It was at this time that I first embarked on silent meditation, and soon joined a weekly sitting group to support my early practice.
2. What, if any, religion or philosophy do you associate yourself with currently? Could you describe your faith a bit?
I “associate myself” with Buddhism—but without calling myself a Buddhist. It’s more of a practice than a faith, because it doesn’t require me to believe in anything that I can’t actually put to the test through experience. My skeptical mind shies away from faith. I’m with Missouri: Show Me!
3. Which of the Buddhist teachings do you find most valuable in your everyday life? Why?
Breath meditation. Because it helps me train and stabilize the mind, and find some inner peace. Also the Eightfold Path (see Accesstoinsight.org.) It’s a practical guide on how to lead my life with integrity.
4. Describe your blog. What is your approach to writing? Who is your intended audience? What issues does your blog tend to focus on, be they Buddhist or otherwise?
The Buddha Diaries is a meditation on the events of my life seen through the lens of the Buddhist meditation practice. It covers everything from George the dog to George W. Bush, from books I read and movies that I see to travels and family. It’s a way of examining my life—and the life of the mind—as I continue on my journey through life, and its intended audience is anyone who shares my passion to lead an “examined life.” I’m not trying to convert anyone to Buddhist thought or practice, nor to preach the Buddhist gospel (if there were one.)
My writing, like my meditation, is a practice. I do it virtually every day as a means of remaining conscious and taking stock of where I am. The great adage that I learned years ago and have always followed is an old one: How do I know what I think ‘til I see what I say? Writing is an adventure of the mind, a means of self-discovery, a continuing journey. The fact that, through The Buddha Diaries, I have found many who want to share it with me is a source of endless pleasure and satisfaction.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
A New Venture
Just a note, this morning, to let you know that The Huffington Post published my first entry on that site yesterday. As we used to say in English English, I’m all chuffed about it. I hope that my blogging friends will check me out here, and that you’ll consider giving me a boost by commenting, or even by checking in as a “fan.” I could use the help.
It's my intention to contribute at least once a week on Huffington. My hope is that these entries will attract more readers to “The Buddha Diaires” and, in turn, to this circle of bloggers I now think of as my friends. If Huffington readers link from The Post to “The Buddha Diaries,” they will find links there to all my friends and neighbors in the bloggerhood.
Aside from which—and more importantly: May we all find true happiness and the source of happiness! Blessings all around.
It's my intention to contribute at least once a week on Huffington. My hope is that these entries will attract more readers to “The Buddha Diaires” and, in turn, to this circle of bloggers I now think of as my friends. If Huffington readers link from The Post to “The Buddha Diaries,” they will find links there to all my friends and neighbors in the bloggerhood.
Aside from which—and more importantly: May we all find true happiness and the source of happiness! Blessings all around.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Torture
There's no other word for it, is there? The Mukasey appointment, approved yesterday despite the man's refusal to acknowledge the simple truth and with the connivance of a pair of Democrats I had previously admired, is but one more instance of our craven capitulation to the venal abuse of power on the part of Bush and his administration.
How did we get to this point, in America, where we allow ourselves to be led around by the nose by a man who apparently lacks the honesty to acknowledge what is plain to the world? "The United States does not torture," he repeats like some crazed mantra, as though by their repetition the words might somehow be believed. A man of this kind would surely in previous generations have been hounded out of office. Instead, our elected officials seem mesmerized into letting him have his way at every turn, and we are condemned to stand by and watch this cynical dishonoring of the most basic of human standards, the most basic of principles on which this country was founded. We have surrendered ourselves into the hands of men without conscience or consciousness, men who lie and abuse the power with which they were entrusted, men who ignore our will and spit in our eye with impunity.
How did this happen? How does it continue to happen that this man and his crew of bullies and liars work their will in a world that increasingly despises them? I am disgusted. I am disgusted with myself, who continue to sit here and blog, as though that were some significant action in the face of a government--my government--that ignores the plight of the poor, the sick, and the needy not only in our own country but around the world, and instead makes needless war and squanders the country's wealth on those very "weapons of mass destruction" it deplores in the hands of others. How does it happen that the voices of reason and conscience are belittled and ignored?
Enough for now. This morning, I woke with more than my usual share of outrage. What's a Buddhist to do, in such a dire circumstance? Breathe? Await the forces of karma to set things aright? Smile the smile of the Buddha?
You see what I mean?
How did we get to this point, in America, where we allow ourselves to be led around by the nose by a man who apparently lacks the honesty to acknowledge what is plain to the world? "The United States does not torture," he repeats like some crazed mantra, as though by their repetition the words might somehow be believed. A man of this kind would surely in previous generations have been hounded out of office. Instead, our elected officials seem mesmerized into letting him have his way at every turn, and we are condemned to stand by and watch this cynical dishonoring of the most basic of human standards, the most basic of principles on which this country was founded. We have surrendered ourselves into the hands of men without conscience or consciousness, men who lie and abuse the power with which they were entrusted, men who ignore our will and spit in our eye with impunity.
How did this happen? How does it continue to happen that this man and his crew of bullies and liars work their will in a world that increasingly despises them? I am disgusted. I am disgusted with myself, who continue to sit here and blog, as though that were some significant action in the face of a government--my government--that ignores the plight of the poor, the sick, and the needy not only in our own country but around the world, and instead makes needless war and squanders the country's wealth on those very "weapons of mass destruction" it deplores in the hands of others. How does it happen that the voices of reason and conscience are belittled and ignored?
Enough for now. This morning, I woke with more than my usual share of outrage. What's a Buddhist to do, in such a dire circumstance? Breathe? Await the forces of karma to set things aright? Smile the smile of the Buddha?
You see what I mean?
Friday, October 19, 2007
People With a Passion
It's always a wonderful experience to be with people with a common passion. This thought prompted by my having stumbled across "Word Play" on public television last night--a documentary about crossword puzzlers. 
The New York Times crossword happens to be a small addiction of my own, one that I share, I now discover, with such notables as Jon Stewart, Ken Burns, Bill Clinton and countless others. "Word Play" centers around the annual tournament in Stamford, Connecticut, hosted by NYT crossword editor Will Shortz, where puzzlers of all stripes gather to vie for the championship. The competition is intense. My own humble efforts pale beside these folks, who complete the simple, early-week puzzles in seconds flat, and the progressively harder puzzles toward the end of the week in minutes. Amazing to watch them.
The crossword puzzle, though, is just a pretext for this study of people with a passion, and for the community in which they thrive. Even though they meet only once a year in this fashion, their hearts seem to beat as one. There's a mutual admiration, a bond, even, yes, a kind of love that unites this vastly diverse bunch of human beings. What's extraordinary is how they are all leveled--rich, poor, lawyers, doctors, students, secretaries, scientists, musicians... you get the sense that their differences mean nothing in this context, where their common humanity simply surges to the fore.
I think we bloggers are like that. It has come to be the thing I value most about this peculiar, near-daily obsession of mine. It's done in private, but the sense of community is increasingly powerful. (A propos, Cardozo is in the process of editing a new installment of "The Buddha Diaires Recommends," and I hope to have that posted early next week.) I know not a single one of you out there in person, but I come to recognize your voice, your vision, and there's a particular joy in finding common cause.
"Word Play" put me in mind of the first "YearlyKos" conference I attended a couple of years ago in Las Vegas, where a thousand progressive liberal bloggers gathered to meet not only each other, most for the first time in person, but also a good number of the Democratic Party leaders who had just begun to understand something of the power of the blogosphere. Barbara Boxer was there, and Harry Reid, Bill Richardson, Wesley Clark, and several other potential presidential contenders. I myself was working on my first blog at the time, "The Bush Diairies," and had just published a book version, "The Real Bush Diaries." It was a thrill to find myself amongst so many "of my own kind," all passionate about their politics and a little tipsy on their effects of their growing influence.
So this entry is just a way of saying thank you to those who blog and those who read the blogs and those who add their comments to the blogs they read. It's a joy to feel your presence out there and to sense that this small circle of Buddhists, near-Buddhists, and those attracted to Buddhism by its simple humanity, is making its own contribution to the conscience and consciousness it will take to save the planet that we share.
The New York Times crossword happens to be a small addiction of my own, one that I share, I now discover, with such notables as Jon Stewart, Ken Burns, Bill Clinton and countless others. "Word Play" centers around the annual tournament in Stamford, Connecticut, hosted by NYT crossword editor Will Shortz, where puzzlers of all stripes gather to vie for the championship. The competition is intense. My own humble efforts pale beside these folks, who complete the simple, early-week puzzles in seconds flat, and the progressively harder puzzles toward the end of the week in minutes. Amazing to watch them.The crossword puzzle, though, is just a pretext for this study of people with a passion, and for the community in which they thrive. Even though they meet only once a year in this fashion, their hearts seem to beat as one. There's a mutual admiration, a bond, even, yes, a kind of love that unites this vastly diverse bunch of human beings. What's extraordinary is how they are all leveled--rich, poor, lawyers, doctors, students, secretaries, scientists, musicians... you get the sense that their differences mean nothing in this context, where their common humanity simply surges to the fore.
I think we bloggers are like that. It has come to be the thing I value most about this peculiar, near-daily obsession of mine. It's done in private, but the sense of community is increasingly powerful. (A propos, Cardozo is in the process of editing a new installment of "The Buddha Diaires Recommends," and I hope to have that posted early next week.) I know not a single one of you out there in person, but I come to recognize your voice, your vision, and there's a particular joy in finding common cause.
"Word Play" put me in mind of the first "YearlyKos" conference I attended a couple of years ago in Las Vegas, where a thousand progressive liberal bloggers gathered to meet not only each other, most for the first time in person, but also a good number of the Democratic Party leaders who had just begun to understand something of the power of the blogosphere. Barbara Boxer was there, and Harry Reid, Bill Richardson, Wesley Clark, and several other potential presidential contenders. I myself was working on my first blog at the time, "The Bush Diairies," and had just published a book version, "The Real Bush Diaries." It was a thrill to find myself amongst so many "of my own kind," all passionate about their politics and a little tipsy on their effects of their growing influence.
So this entry is just a way of saying thank you to those who blog and those who read the blogs and those who add their comments to the blogs they read. It's a joy to feel your presence out there and to sense that this small circle of Buddhists, near-Buddhists, and those attracted to Buddhism by its simple humanity, is making its own contribution to the conscience and consciousness it will take to save the planet that we share.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Addictions
I was halfway kidding when I entered a comment on Thailandgal yesterday. Chani had mentioned (in her response to my own thoughts about Bush and his cavalier use of language) that she generally avoids involvement with American politics, and my comment included a reference to my "recovery from my earlier blog addiction: The Bush Diaries." As I told her, "I got tired of waking up with [Bush] in bed with me every morning. The Buddha is MUCH better company."
As usual, of course, the casual humor provoked a deeper truth with which I woke this morning: even a positive addiction can enslave us.
Let me explain. I have been noticing some inner turmoil recently that has caused a kind of chronic low-grade sense of dissatisfaction in my life--dare I say, to give it a Buddhist cast--"unhappiness"? You might have picked it up in a number of my entries. This morning I woke with the realization that I have formed a whole new cluster of habits that have started to create that sense of compulsion that is a kind of enslavement of the mind. I have even prided myself on them a bit, dignifying them with the name of "practice." They include the morning meditation, the blog entry, the time for exercise... and so on. All good things, you will agree. But my thought is that I have become attached to them in such a way that their benefits are in danger of congealing into just one more addiction--or should I say another network of addictions? To the extent that the breach of them induces an inner feeling of anxiety, dissatisfaction and--there we go--unhappiness.
Not that I want to lose the benefits of any of these good things. My meditation practice continues to bring me insights and some measure of serenity. Am I demonstrably the better for it? I don't know. I still get mad on the freeways, but I tend to mutter the imprecations rather than yell them out. I still get mad at Bush, and all the terrible things he's doing to our increasingly vulnerable world. I still get mad at other people, for their imagined offenses to my autonomy or dignity! But I am aware of a greater sense of peace pervasive in my life, a greater sense of acceptance... And I do love those moments when the meditation goes so well that I feel in harmony with the universe.
As for the blog, well, you have to know how much I love it. Aside from anything else, it has provided me with the forum for a more satisfying writing practice than I've ever known before. To have the challenge to write every day with the knowledge that what I write will be published, read, in some cases appreciated, and often responded to--this is a writer's dream come true.
And still, and still... there is that insight: even positive addictions such as these can enslave us, and I have--truth, now--been feeling that compulsion, that sense of obligation, that enslavement. And the whole point of Buddhist practice, as I see it, is to gradually free myself from those things that constrain me and control my life, to achieve, yes, happiness. This is the central teaching of the Dalai Lama; this is what he tries so hard to get across to stubborn, materialistic, competitive, goal-oriented Western minds.
So what to do with this realization? I guess, make changes. I plan to find other times to meditate, and other times to blog. I plan to feel less compelled to make that daily entry, to dis-organize my life a bit, and trust that a little bit of chaos, a little bit of not-knowing what's coming next will knock me out of orbit just enough to make the course correction that I need.
That said, well, I did my meditation this morning--but no so early. And (gasp!) in bed. And here I am, writing my entry in The Buddha Diaries. Am I beyond help?
Here's to greater wisdom and blessings in the world!
As usual, of course, the casual humor provoked a deeper truth with which I woke this morning: even a positive addiction can enslave us.
Let me explain. I have been noticing some inner turmoil recently that has caused a kind of chronic low-grade sense of dissatisfaction in my life--dare I say, to give it a Buddhist cast--"unhappiness"? You might have picked it up in a number of my entries. This morning I woke with the realization that I have formed a whole new cluster of habits that have started to create that sense of compulsion that is a kind of enslavement of the mind. I have even prided myself on them a bit, dignifying them with the name of "practice." They include the morning meditation, the blog entry, the time for exercise... and so on. All good things, you will agree. But my thought is that I have become attached to them in such a way that their benefits are in danger of congealing into just one more addiction--or should I say another network of addictions? To the extent that the breach of them induces an inner feeling of anxiety, dissatisfaction and--there we go--unhappiness.
Not that I want to lose the benefits of any of these good things. My meditation practice continues to bring me insights and some measure of serenity. Am I demonstrably the better for it? I don't know. I still get mad on the freeways, but I tend to mutter the imprecations rather than yell them out. I still get mad at Bush, and all the terrible things he's doing to our increasingly vulnerable world. I still get mad at other people, for their imagined offenses to my autonomy or dignity! But I am aware of a greater sense of peace pervasive in my life, a greater sense of acceptance... And I do love those moments when the meditation goes so well that I feel in harmony with the universe.
As for the blog, well, you have to know how much I love it. Aside from anything else, it has provided me with the forum for a more satisfying writing practice than I've ever known before. To have the challenge to write every day with the knowledge that what I write will be published, read, in some cases appreciated, and often responded to--this is a writer's dream come true.
And still, and still... there is that insight: even positive addictions such as these can enslave us, and I have--truth, now--been feeling that compulsion, that sense of obligation, that enslavement. And the whole point of Buddhist practice, as I see it, is to gradually free myself from those things that constrain me and control my life, to achieve, yes, happiness. This is the central teaching of the Dalai Lama; this is what he tries so hard to get across to stubborn, materialistic, competitive, goal-oriented Western minds.
So what to do with this realization? I guess, make changes. I plan to find other times to meditate, and other times to blog. I plan to feel less compelled to make that daily entry, to dis-organize my life a bit, and trust that a little bit of chaos, a little bit of not-knowing what's coming next will knock me out of orbit just enough to make the course correction that I need.
That said, well, I did my meditation this morning--but no so early. And (gasp!) in bed. And here I am, writing my entry in The Buddha Diaries. Am I beyond help?
Here's to greater wisdom and blessings in the world!
Sunday, September 9, 2007
September Journeys
Today, we invite you to travel with us across the fractal terrain of our friendly blog community and...get inside the pants of a Bad Ass Knitter...
sail across virtual waters for an adventure in Buddhism
stop for ice cream, and walk down memory lane in Somerville, MA
crawl inside the beating heart of a Dharma Bum
get lost and get found in the Wisconsin wilderness
Happy Reading! Peter returns tomorrow to give us the latest from the gentle streets of San Francisco.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
For the Love of Blogs
Without wanting to seem presumptuous, I have been thinking about making a practice of including occasional “reviews” of other blogs in "The Buddha Diaries". I know I get lazy about checking in with those I have come to think of as my valued colleagues, even if we have no contact other than the occasional comment on a post, so I’m trusting that this plan will help to remind me to stay abreast of what might be on the minds of the like-minded! And then there’s the obvious selfish reason: I’d love for them, likewise, to keep checking in with me. So here’s the first in what I intend to be a regular event in "The Buddha Diaries"—though the choices, be it said, represent no ordering or priority.
Pax et lux
I decided, yesterday, to contact Liberata at Pax et lux. I was sure that she would be aware of the scheduled execution of Troy Anthony Davis, set for today, Tuesday, but I thought I could wangle her signature for the petition (see yesterday’s entry) just in case she had not already signed it. "Pax et lux" is a wonderful read for anyone who is as outraged as I am by the suspension of Habeas Corpus and the extra-legal, often brutal treatment of prisoners at Guantanamo (and elsewhere) under the false pretense of protecting America and its democracy. Liberata, as I understand it, is a Quaker, and she takes her non-violence and her dedication to social justice seriously. She is eloquent in her passionate denunciation of the Iraq war and other Bushian follies, and is notable for the simple human decency of her approach. We need more like her, who are prepared to put in the effort that it takes to make her feelings known.
Integral Options Cafe
Next, try reading Bill’s recent holistic thoughts at Integral Options Café about obesity and fitness in America and see if it doesn’t strike home. It does with me. Along with too many others, I eat more than I need to, with a resulting bulge in undesirable places. Bill is not only a smart blogger with a decidedly Buddhist bent (I found his site originally because of its selection as “Blog of the Year”—or some such honor—on one of those sites that brings us all together) but also a fitness instructor. I’d sign up to work out with him tomorrow if he wasn’t so far away, and I don’t suppose it can be done too easily online. I have to admit I’m a little intimidated by the picture on his bio page (take a peek!), but I’m trusting that it’s not Bill himself who’s pictured there.
Here's what Bill says about himself on his bio page: "We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thought. With our thoughts, we make our world." ~The Buddha. And I love the Theodore Roethke poem he posted today!
*
So that’s a start. I actually love this blogging business. I have found that it enhances every other piece of writing that I do, professionally: the ideas and words flow easier than ever before, and I'm sure it's thanks to this daily practice of simply showing up and letting it out. I trust that my references to colleagues will bring offense to no one, and will succeed only in drawing attention to excellence in the art of bloggery.
By the way, in case some readers were not aware of it: I'm not sure about others but I suspect that we all immensely value comments. I confess that I was surprised and sad, the other day, when I posted what I thought was a beautiful short poem in memory of Lady Bird Johnson and heard only the echo of my own voice in the silence of the blogosphere. My sitemeter reports good news about an internationally expanding readership. It would mean a great deal to me to hear from time to time a word or two from readers out there in far parts of the world. Asia? Down under? It's wonderful to know that people in those parts are reading my few words, and I'd love to hear from them. Consider this a request…
As a footnote: I'm much relieved to hear that Troy Anthony Davis yesterday was granted a reprieve from his scheduled execution date, today. Would it be too much to hope that the State of Georgia might rethink its death penalty policy before October, when the review of the Davis case must be concluded?
Pax et lux
I decided, yesterday, to contact Liberata at Pax et lux. I was sure that she would be aware of the scheduled execution of Troy Anthony Davis, set for today, Tuesday, but I thought I could wangle her signature for the petition (see yesterday’s entry) just in case she had not already signed it. "Pax et lux" is a wonderful read for anyone who is as outraged as I am by the suspension of Habeas Corpus and the extra-legal, often brutal treatment of prisoners at Guantanamo (and elsewhere) under the false pretense of protecting America and its democracy. Liberata, as I understand it, is a Quaker, and she takes her non-violence and her dedication to social justice seriously. She is eloquent in her passionate denunciation of the Iraq war and other Bushian follies, and is notable for the simple human decency of her approach. We need more like her, who are prepared to put in the effort that it takes to make her feelings known.
Integral Options Cafe
Next, try reading Bill’s recent holistic thoughts at Integral Options Café about obesity and fitness in America and see if it doesn’t strike home. It does with me. Along with too many others, I eat more than I need to, with a resulting bulge in undesirable places. Bill is not only a smart blogger with a decidedly Buddhist bent (I found his site originally because of its selection as “Blog of the Year”—or some such honor—on one of those sites that brings us all together) but also a fitness instructor. I’d sign up to work out with him tomorrow if he wasn’t so far away, and I don’t suppose it can be done too easily online. I have to admit I’m a little intimidated by the picture on his bio page (take a peek!), but I’m trusting that it’s not Bill himself who’s pictured there.
Here's what Bill says about himself on his bio page: "We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thought. With our thoughts, we make our world." ~The Buddha. And I love the Theodore Roethke poem he posted today!
*
So that’s a start. I actually love this blogging business. I have found that it enhances every other piece of writing that I do, professionally: the ideas and words flow easier than ever before, and I'm sure it's thanks to this daily practice of simply showing up and letting it out. I trust that my references to colleagues will bring offense to no one, and will succeed only in drawing attention to excellence in the art of bloggery.
By the way, in case some readers were not aware of it: I'm not sure about others but I suspect that we all immensely value comments. I confess that I was surprised and sad, the other day, when I posted what I thought was a beautiful short poem in memory of Lady Bird Johnson and heard only the echo of my own voice in the silence of the blogosphere. My sitemeter reports good news about an internationally expanding readership. It would mean a great deal to me to hear from time to time a word or two from readers out there in far parts of the world. Asia? Down under? It's wonderful to know that people in those parts are reading my few words, and I'd love to hear from them. Consider this a request…
As a footnote: I'm much relieved to hear that Troy Anthony Davis yesterday was granted a reprieve from his scheduled execution date, today. Would it be too much to hope that the State of Georgia might rethink its death penalty policy before October, when the review of the Davis case must be concluded?
Thursday, July 12, 2007
What's Your Learning Edge? And, "Come Hell and High Water"
More group stuff, of a different--but no less vital--kind:
I was just tagged by Bill at Integral Options Cafe with a challenge to think about this topic that's making the rounds in the blogosphere. I don't know. Maybe I need a new one. The big one for me recently has been a change in media. For more years than I care to remember, I have thought of myself--and practiced--as a writer. For this, I have actually needed no more than a ballpoint pen and a yellow pad--though I've discovered that a computer actually does come in quite handy. Then my friend Bill Lasarow at Artscene magazine in Los Angeles threw me a curve with an invitation to contribute to a new venture of his, Artscene Visual Radio. He came around to my house a few months ago and set me up with a sound studio in my office: the "learning edge" has been getting comfortable enough with the new technology to use it. And discovering the difference between language-as-writing and language-as-sound, and how to put together a respectable radio piece that's at once interesting and as glitch-free as possible.
My contribution is called "The Art of Outrage." It started at a time when I was still writing in my first blog, The Bush Diaries, and was waking up pretty much outraged every day. The Bush Diaries morphed a few months back into The Buddha Diaries when it dawned on me that the Buddha was far better company than Bush, and consequently I don't feel the outrage quite so often any more--though maybe I should! Anyway, "The Art of Outrage" has been a huge learning curve, and I have to confess that I would still be much more of a dunce with the technology without the able help of my assistant, Cardozo, who also posts to The Buddha Diaries on occasion. The experience served to put me on edge in the kind of way I think is being talked about here: there needs to be that bit of discomfort, that sense that some significant change needs to be made, in order to be on the "learning edge."
I'm still there, to a certain extent, with the technology and the new medium, but the edge has begun to dull. This curious and unexpected challenge has reminded me that I could use a new one. I'm not in any hurry, with the summer arriving, and with a travel schedule that keeps me from rooting into the ground. But, yes... thanks for the reminder!
Who to tag? How about some engaged younger bloggers? Eli, Mark, and Lindsey.
AND... ANOTHER "GROUP" SHOW
I’ve been meaning to put in a few words about this photography show, and I hope I’ve managed to do so before it closed. (The website says July 7, but I’m hoping its run might have been extended: any reader in the Orange County, California area would do well to see it…) “Come Hell and High Water” brings together three photographers from New Orleans, and the show is about the Katrina disaster.
Jackson Hill took pictures of the area close to his house only hours before Katrina struck.
The light in these pictures, I understand, is not manipulated—its eerie quality due perhaps to the approaching storm, or perhaps in part to the artist's apprehension of the event. Their strange colors and deserted scenes convey an unsettling sense of tragic inevitability, of a city awaiting its destruction.
Brian Gauvin's poignant pictures document the aftermath of the storm and its immeasurable cost to the city and its inhabitants. This picture
shows the mark of the high water, in a scene that oddly mimics the aesthetics of minimalist art and at the same time manages to highlight the breathtaking enormity of nature's assault. Gauvin captures the surreal incongruities that result from a single act of nature that was able to make a mockery of humanity's attempts to tame it. In his pictures, houses are reduced to matchsticks, cars become toys discarded in disarray by a childish tantrum.
Tom Neff's lens turns on the human cost of the tragedy. His images and the accompanying texts reveal at once the best and the worst of human nature in extremis. Here
he captures in a single image the proud defiance of the vulerable individual and the shame of a nation that so signally failed its own people at a time of need. Neff tells stories. His people--mostly poor, mostly deprived of all but the last shreds of their wordly possessions and their dignity--have been through the hell that's referred to in the exhibition's title and have come out the other side with their humanity intact, even deepened by the experience. Or, in some dreadful cases, destroyed.
While Tom Neff's images and texts are the most absorbing part of "Come Hell and High Water," the whole exhibit constitutes a gripping documentation of this landmark event in our history and and the place of its occurence; and, finally, a powerful indictment of our national failure to meet the challenge it presented, our abandonment of a magical city--one of our great, irreplaceable cultural jewels--at a time when, elsewhere in the world, we persist in pursuing an unnecessary and hopeless war.
"
(Thanks and apologies to BC Space's website for the purloined--"borrowed?"--images. After wrting the above, I received an email to let me know that the run of this show has, indteed, been extended. If any of my readers live within reasonable travel distance of Laguna Beach, check in with the gallery for information about dates and times.)
I was just tagged by Bill at Integral Options Cafe with a challenge to think about this topic that's making the rounds in the blogosphere. I don't know. Maybe I need a new one. The big one for me recently has been a change in media. For more years than I care to remember, I have thought of myself--and practiced--as a writer. For this, I have actually needed no more than a ballpoint pen and a yellow pad--though I've discovered that a computer actually does come in quite handy. Then my friend Bill Lasarow at Artscene magazine in Los Angeles threw me a curve with an invitation to contribute to a new venture of his, Artscene Visual Radio. He came around to my house a few months ago and set me up with a sound studio in my office: the "learning edge" has been getting comfortable enough with the new technology to use it. And discovering the difference between language-as-writing and language-as-sound, and how to put together a respectable radio piece that's at once interesting and as glitch-free as possible.
My contribution is called "The Art of Outrage." It started at a time when I was still writing in my first blog, The Bush Diaries, and was waking up pretty much outraged every day. The Bush Diaries morphed a few months back into The Buddha Diaries when it dawned on me that the Buddha was far better company than Bush, and consequently I don't feel the outrage quite so often any more--though maybe I should! Anyway, "The Art of Outrage" has been a huge learning curve, and I have to confess that I would still be much more of a dunce with the technology without the able help of my assistant, Cardozo, who also posts to The Buddha Diaries on occasion. The experience served to put me on edge in the kind of way I think is being talked about here: there needs to be that bit of discomfort, that sense that some significant change needs to be made, in order to be on the "learning edge."
I'm still there, to a certain extent, with the technology and the new medium, but the edge has begun to dull. This curious and unexpected challenge has reminded me that I could use a new one. I'm not in any hurry, with the summer arriving, and with a travel schedule that keeps me from rooting into the ground. But, yes... thanks for the reminder!
Who to tag? How about some engaged younger bloggers? Eli, Mark, and Lindsey.
AND... ANOTHER "GROUP" SHOW
I’ve been meaning to put in a few words about this photography show, and I hope I’ve managed to do so before it closed. (The website says July 7, but I’m hoping its run might have been extended: any reader in the Orange County, California area would do well to see it…) “Come Hell and High Water” brings together three photographers from New Orleans, and the show is about the Katrina disaster.
Jackson Hill took pictures of the area close to his house only hours before Katrina struck.
The light in these pictures, I understand, is not manipulated—its eerie quality due perhaps to the approaching storm, or perhaps in part to the artist's apprehension of the event. Their strange colors and deserted scenes convey an unsettling sense of tragic inevitability, of a city awaiting its destruction.
Brian Gauvin's poignant pictures document the aftermath of the storm and its immeasurable cost to the city and its inhabitants. This picture
shows the mark of the high water, in a scene that oddly mimics the aesthetics of minimalist art and at the same time manages to highlight the breathtaking enormity of nature's assault. Gauvin captures the surreal incongruities that result from a single act of nature that was able to make a mockery of humanity's attempts to tame it. In his pictures, houses are reduced to matchsticks, cars become toys discarded in disarray by a childish tantrum.
Tom Neff's lens turns on the human cost of the tragedy. His images and the accompanying texts reveal at once the best and the worst of human nature in extremis. Here
he captures in a single image the proud defiance of the vulerable individual and the shame of a nation that so signally failed its own people at a time of need. Neff tells stories. His people--mostly poor, mostly deprived of all but the last shreds of their wordly possessions and their dignity--have been through the hell that's referred to in the exhibition's title and have come out the other side with their humanity intact, even deepened by the experience. Or, in some dreadful cases, destroyed.
While Tom Neff's images and texts are the most absorbing part of "Come Hell and High Water," the whole exhibit constitutes a gripping documentation of this landmark event in our history and and the place of its occurence; and, finally, a powerful indictment of our national failure to meet the challenge it presented, our abandonment of a magical city--one of our great, irreplaceable cultural jewels--at a time when, elsewhere in the world, we persist in pursuing an unnecessary and hopeless war.
"
(Thanks and apologies to BC Space's website for the purloined--"borrowed?"--images. After wrting the above, I received an email to let me know that the run of this show has, indteed, been extended. If any of my readers live within reasonable travel distance of Laguna Beach, check in with the gallery for information about dates and times.)
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