My dear dad lived his final days in a beach house which was my mother's great love.She was Irish and being able to hear and smell the ocean was in her DNA. Dad was from inland Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania Dutch and all that implies. He had nothing for the beach, but he got great joy from making Mum happy. Therefore the retirement in Ipswich, MA.
She was dead but he didn't want to leave her house. too many good memories. The thing was, however, that almost all his neighbors went south for the winter and the house got hit pretty hard by storms being on a hill facing northeast.This time, at least, the roof survived, mostly.
About being stubborn, we had plenty of warning but he refused to leave. Even my brother or sister's house would have been much safer. So, I stayed with him and prepared for the worst. I brought up all the firewood I could find. I filled jars and the tub with water, I cooked some things in case the electricity went off, found candles and flashlights. I made a pile of blankets and hammer and nails near the fireplace, thinking that if we had no heat, I could make a tent room to keep him warm. He went about his business. He was around 90. Not too much fazed him. "If I die, I die here." Turned out to be true but not during that storm. My inner self was kind of screaming "What about me?" I wasn't ready to die.
But I almost did. Of cabin fever. How did those wagon train people do it? But the electricity survived and therein came my survival. The storm was plastering all the windows (all four sides) of the house. It was dark inside. We couldn't open any doors. Between the wind and the snow piling up in front of the doors, we were trapped.
This was a week or two before Christmas. I called my son in Seattle to bemoan my fate. He quietly suggested that I open my Christmas present which was sitting under the tree. I did so. It was a big box of Godiva chocolates and a pirate copy which he had bought in Thailand of the unreleased last season of the Sopranos. My life made a 180 degree for the better. I went downstairs to the VCR and had my little orgy.
When a neighbor came by about 30 hours later and noticed that our doors were blocked up to the roof, he dug us out. The snowplow came in a bit and I got my car out with a lot of help from whomever I could find.
I drove home to another seaside town. My house was much more immediately on the water. I had to let down and raise the stairs from my deck to the beach depending on the tides. I knew the tides were going to be wild, and I was excited to get home and watch. The back side of the house had almost no widows, the ocean side, nothing but. The house had been a horse barn for quarry horses for hundreds of years so I never worried about it surviving storms. It always did. I opened the door and was just stepping in exclaiming "Holy Shit" when the mail man tackled me from behind and pulled me away from the house. "What the f***?"
He pulled me along to a protected place where we could view the wild seas. I saw what he was concerned about. In the area next to my house where they used to load the granite on ships bound for England, there were giant stone walls made of such stones. The blocks of granite were 12 feet long and four feet deep. At that moment they were being tossed around, right in front of my deck like beach balls.
I went down the street and drank coffee and chatted the storm stories until things calmed down. There had been some terrific damage done by those granite monsters, fortunately not to my house. Respect.
So, I conclude that there are mysterious means by which God can save me during a blizzard. Firstly with a package from sonly, then by someone shoveling the door open, then by the rude postman who saw grave danger before I did. Sometimes I think I miss the drama and the beauty of nature in New England, then I get ready to go have a swim and think that I don't need that anymore in this life.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Child Slave Labor in the Walt Disney Company
I read this report when it came out and I have read it and talked to people about it since. We could change the lives of millions of people all over the planet if we asked for and demanded a "No sweat" label on all the stuff we buy. We certainly don't have to worry about the obscene profits of the Waltons or the Disney folks or the iPhone people or the Monsanto crowd or all the insanely profitable corporations.Wal-Mart earned $128 billion in the fourth quarter last year. Apple a measly $10 billion for the same time. What would happen if they paid their workers a few more dollars a day and demanded that a kid must be at least 10 to work his 12 hour days and they made some ventilation and safe and decent sanitary facilities? Would capitalism come to an end? would Joseph Stalin be reborn? I don't think so.
The thing is, even if we have no conscience, even if we don't give a rats ass about the poor sucker who is making our mini mouse doll, even if we don't care at all, most people have some bit of self preservation. This is all coming home to roost, just like our foreign police is. Now we are searched and killed and under scrutiny all the time. Now our President orders assassinations of US citizens when he wants. Now we have essentially slave labor in prisons. Now we have farm workers exposed to up to 16 dangerous chemicals a day. Who eats that food? Who even knows that the person to whom they are speaking about their VISA card could be a .20$ and hour lifer in some for profit prison.
I know that if we all took a few minutes to walk up to the service counters at stores or Disneyland and asked "Is this product sweat free?" word would quickly get back to the big wigs..And if we took it one step further and said we would come back and buy it if were sweat free, things could change rapidly. And we could call ourselves 'human' instead of 'socialist.'
by Frederick Kopp
November 2005
For decades people around the world have associated "Disney" with innocence, imagination, and purity. However, behind the scenes of this gigantic company there are human rights violations being committed daily around the world. In factories workers are being paid staggeringly low wages. These factories not only pay their employees minute amounts, but they provide dirt-poor conditions as well. This issue is a problem not only for the third world nations, but for Americans also.
The small Caribbean island of Haiti is the most glaring example of an inhumane Disney sweatshop. Workers there stitch Aladdin t-shirts for 28 cents an hour (Haiti). Surprisingly, this is by far highest wage of the three sweatshops cited in this report. However, food can actually be as expensive in Haiti as it is in the United States. After taxes, a Haitian sweatshop worker will have 15-20 dollars a month. Everything is put into perspective when it's noted that it costs 20 dollars a month to rent a one-room shack with no running water. Simply put, a single individual would find it difficult to survive on these means, let alone someone with children.
Most of the world's slave labor in the past ten years has taken place in Asia. In Vietnam, the Walt Disney Company runs a sweatshop that produces those plastic toys that accompany many fast food meals. Employees of this factory work seven days a week, for ten hours a day. That is almost double the average American's work week. However, these people make only 17 cents an hour. Three years ago, 200 women of this factory has to be hospitalized due to being exposed to acetone, a toxic substance. The factory refused to make any changes in the ventilation system or health code.
It isn't difficult to understand the injustices taking place here. The solution isn't necessarily full blown Socialism. However, when a Disney sweatshop worker in Burma is paid six cents a day for tedious labor, that figure stands in stark contract to Disney CEO Michael Eisner's income of about 102,000 thousand dollars an hour. Sadly, the demand for jobs at such a low wage only reiterates that whole nations are extremely needy. The issue becomes whether or not it is morally wrong to pay so little when a company can easily afford more.
Wages are only one of the negative aspects of these Disney sweatshops. Besides the Megatex factory in Haiti, there is no tolerance for worker's rights. When reading quotes from Disney sweatshop employees worldwide, one uniform theme was that any worker suspected of organizing for grievances would be fired immediately. The Code of Conduct that is upheld in every other Disney operation seems to never be enforced in the Asian sweatshops.
Besides poor conditions, another constant among these sweatshops is that the workforce is comprised almost entirely of women and children. Most workers are between the ages of 10 and 30. Women are encouraged not to get pregnant because they usually get fired. There are also numerous accounts of supervisor's selecting mistresses out of their workforce. The worker is left to choose between complying and losing her job, devastating when she is living in dire poverty. These barbaric conditions are prevalent throughout most of the Asian sweatshops.
Although these people may not be physically enslaved, financially they usually are. No one has savings accounts, and everyone works paycheck to paycheck. Living quarters are rented, and the rent requires almost all of the wages earned. So many people in these countries are unemployed that losing one's job means having to look long and hard for a new one. When one has children this is not always an option.
One problem that arises from this issue is that unfair fines are frequently handed out. They can range from 60 cents to 35 dollars. Petty grounds for giving fines include forgetting to turn the lights off and showing up to work late. A fine that can cost up to two months of pay devastates many already poor people. Sometimes employers give constant fines so the woman or child can not quit before paying. In essence this is slavery because the employee can not effectively quit.
Recently people have begun to encourage Disney to take responsibility for the quality of their overseas factories. Shirley Slesinger Lasswell, husband of the late Stephen Slesinger who acquired the rights to Winnie the Pooh in the 1930's, has taken a stand. When, at a news conference, she heard of the beatings, 14 hour days, and poor wages at Disney's Dhaka sweatshop, she began tearfully pleading for better conditions. The National Labor Committee has taken her side in the fight to improve Disney production facilities worldwide.
With the Walt Disney Company in particular, Congress has taken a stand. Rather than bettering conditions in Haiti, Disney contractor H.H. Cutler attempted to move the plant to China. In China they would be able to pay their workers even lower wages, and maintain an even lower standard of humane treatment. The US government decided to write a personal letter to CEO Michael Eisner encouraging him to stay in Haiti and improve conditions for his workers. Eisner never responded and Cutler moved the plant from Haiti to China shortly thereafter.
These child sweatshops can not receive all of the blame for their treatment of the workers. They are required to produce a given amount of merchandise with a given amount of funds. If they pay their employees any more, they will end up losing money. It all starts at the top of the ladder with the executives at the Walt Disney Company. If they pay people higher in the chain, it will filter all the way down to the sweatshops. All of the areas in between have to be held accountable for paying responsibly.
In conclusion, these sweatshops that Disney funds are very real. The US Government can not take significant action because these operations are not on their soil. Organizations such as the National Labor Committee are focused on the issue and do their part in protesting and bringing the issue to attention. Despite their efforts, the same conditions continue every day in China and other parts of Asia for overseas factory workers.
The thing is, even if we have no conscience, even if we don't give a rats ass about the poor sucker who is making our mini mouse doll, even if we don't care at all, most people have some bit of self preservation. This is all coming home to roost, just like our foreign police is. Now we are searched and killed and under scrutiny all the time. Now our President orders assassinations of US citizens when he wants. Now we have essentially slave labor in prisons. Now we have farm workers exposed to up to 16 dangerous chemicals a day. Who eats that food? Who even knows that the person to whom they are speaking about their VISA card could be a .20$ and hour lifer in some for profit prison.
I know that if we all took a few minutes to walk up to the service counters at stores or Disneyland and asked "Is this product sweat free?" word would quickly get back to the big wigs..And if we took it one step further and said we would come back and buy it if were sweat free, things could change rapidly. And we could call ourselves 'human' instead of 'socialist.'
Child Slave Labor in the Walt Disney Company
November 2005
For decades people around the world have associated "Disney" with innocence, imagination, and purity. However, behind the scenes of this gigantic company there are human rights violations being committed daily around the world. In factories workers are being paid staggeringly low wages. These factories not only pay their employees minute amounts, but they provide dirt-poor conditions as well. This issue is a problem not only for the third world nations, but for Americans also.
The small Caribbean island of Haiti is the most glaring example of an inhumane Disney sweatshop. Workers there stitch Aladdin t-shirts for 28 cents an hour (Haiti). Surprisingly, this is by far highest wage of the three sweatshops cited in this report. However, food can actually be as expensive in Haiti as it is in the United States. After taxes, a Haitian sweatshop worker will have 15-20 dollars a month. Everything is put into perspective when it's noted that it costs 20 dollars a month to rent a one-room shack with no running water. Simply put, a single individual would find it difficult to survive on these means, let alone someone with children.
Most of the world's slave labor in the past ten years has taken place in Asia. In Vietnam, the Walt Disney Company runs a sweatshop that produces those plastic toys that accompany many fast food meals. Employees of this factory work seven days a week, for ten hours a day. That is almost double the average American's work week. However, these people make only 17 cents an hour. Three years ago, 200 women of this factory has to be hospitalized due to being exposed to acetone, a toxic substance. The factory refused to make any changes in the ventilation system or health code.
It isn't difficult to understand the injustices taking place here. The solution isn't necessarily full blown Socialism. However, when a Disney sweatshop worker in Burma is paid six cents a day for tedious labor, that figure stands in stark contract to Disney CEO Michael Eisner's income of about 102,000 thousand dollars an hour. Sadly, the demand for jobs at such a low wage only reiterates that whole nations are extremely needy. The issue becomes whether or not it is morally wrong to pay so little when a company can easily afford more.
Wages are only one of the negative aspects of these Disney sweatshops. Besides the Megatex factory in Haiti, there is no tolerance for worker's rights. When reading quotes from Disney sweatshop employees worldwide, one uniform theme was that any worker suspected of organizing for grievances would be fired immediately. The Code of Conduct that is upheld in every other Disney operation seems to never be enforced in the Asian sweatshops.
Besides poor conditions, another constant among these sweatshops is that the workforce is comprised almost entirely of women and children. Most workers are between the ages of 10 and 30. Women are encouraged not to get pregnant because they usually get fired. There are also numerous accounts of supervisor's selecting mistresses out of their workforce. The worker is left to choose between complying and losing her job, devastating when she is living in dire poverty. These barbaric conditions are prevalent throughout most of the Asian sweatshops.
Although these people may not be physically enslaved, financially they usually are. No one has savings accounts, and everyone works paycheck to paycheck. Living quarters are rented, and the rent requires almost all of the wages earned. So many people in these countries are unemployed that losing one's job means having to look long and hard for a new one. When one has children this is not always an option.
One problem that arises from this issue is that unfair fines are frequently handed out. They can range from 60 cents to 35 dollars. Petty grounds for giving fines include forgetting to turn the lights off and showing up to work late. A fine that can cost up to two months of pay devastates many already poor people. Sometimes employers give constant fines so the woman or child can not quit before paying. In essence this is slavery because the employee can not effectively quit.
Recently people have begun to encourage Disney to take responsibility for the quality of their overseas factories. Shirley Slesinger Lasswell, husband of the late Stephen Slesinger who acquired the rights to Winnie the Pooh in the 1930's, has taken a stand. When, at a news conference, she heard of the beatings, 14 hour days, and poor wages at Disney's Dhaka sweatshop, she began tearfully pleading for better conditions. The National Labor Committee has taken her side in the fight to improve Disney production facilities worldwide.
With the Walt Disney Company in particular, Congress has taken a stand. Rather than bettering conditions in Haiti, Disney contractor H.H. Cutler attempted to move the plant to China. In China they would be able to pay their workers even lower wages, and maintain an even lower standard of humane treatment. The US government decided to write a personal letter to CEO Michael Eisner encouraging him to stay in Haiti and improve conditions for his workers. Eisner never responded and Cutler moved the plant from Haiti to China shortly thereafter.
These child sweatshops can not receive all of the blame for their treatment of the workers. They are required to produce a given amount of merchandise with a given amount of funds. If they pay their employees any more, they will end up losing money. It all starts at the top of the ladder with the executives at the Walt Disney Company. If they pay people higher in the chain, it will filter all the way down to the sweatshops. All of the areas in between have to be held accountable for paying responsibly.
In conclusion, these sweatshops that Disney funds are very real. The US Government can not take significant action because these operations are not on their soil. Organizations such as the National Labor Committee are focused on the issue and do their part in protesting and bringing the issue to attention. Despite their efforts, the same conditions continue every day in China and other parts of Asia for overseas factory workers.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Saying that I'm an "American" shows disrespect.
Should we from the United States be called "United Statesians", or United Statans", or United Statesans"? I don't know and I guess I haven't got it right because Spell Check is going wild. In Spanish we are "Estados Unidos". Abbreviated that is "E.U.". That's is potentially confusing. The thing is, as you all know, that from Canada to the tip of Argentina, for some misguided reason everyone thinks they are Americans. They do, actually, live in America; SA, CA, NA.
So, when, as always, someone from the US says they are American, they get that look. That "It must be nice to be the center of the universe" look. Well, that is how we come across. I heard a woman last night giving a lofty opinion that the Nicaraguan poor ought to stop robbing tourists because we are the most important thing in their economy. How has that worked in the USA? The poor here, as in much of the third world, have a pretty clear idea about the robbery we commit as a nation. A peasant in his banana patch can tell you more about NAFTA than most of us at home can. An illiterate Mayan on her milpa can give you the history of the United Fruit company and the infamous Dulles brothers.
They lived it. They are living it. I am back on my high horse about all the conversations I overhear, often from very nice, well intentioned people, about how the Nicas should learn sustainable farming. We have that dialed in in the USA, don't we? How we should teach forestry here. My hand to God, I hear conversations about the health care system being unfair here. Of course it is true, but from what righteous mountaintop are viewing this?
Maybe we could come to learn. We could learn so much about thriving in spite of adversity. We could learn so much about strong families. We could learn so much about being content and happy if everyone has food and a place to live.
I have so much to learn. One of my favorite phrases which I hear from Nicaraguan friends in "SI Dios quiere." After you make a plan, agree upon it, you acknowledge that anything could happen between now and the planned event. It has taken me many years to partially learn that I am not the boss of me, that all sorts of things (earthquake, stomach ache, iphone not working, losing my keys) can come at any second of any day. Nicaraguans often have a grace in their attitude towards life that I want to learn.
So, when, as always, someone from the US says they are American, they get that look. That "It must be nice to be the center of the universe" look. Well, that is how we come across. I heard a woman last night giving a lofty opinion that the Nicaraguan poor ought to stop robbing tourists because we are the most important thing in their economy. How has that worked in the USA? The poor here, as in much of the third world, have a pretty clear idea about the robbery we commit as a nation. A peasant in his banana patch can tell you more about NAFTA than most of us at home can. An illiterate Mayan on her milpa can give you the history of the United Fruit company and the infamous Dulles brothers.
They lived it. They are living it. I am back on my high horse about all the conversations I overhear, often from very nice, well intentioned people, about how the Nicas should learn sustainable farming. We have that dialed in in the USA, don't we? How we should teach forestry here. My hand to God, I hear conversations about the health care system being unfair here. Of course it is true, but from what righteous mountaintop are viewing this?
Maybe we could come to learn. We could learn so much about thriving in spite of adversity. We could learn so much about strong families. We could learn so much about being content and happy if everyone has food and a place to live.
I have so much to learn. One of my favorite phrases which I hear from Nicaraguan friends in "SI Dios quiere." After you make a plan, agree upon it, you acknowledge that anything could happen between now and the planned event. It has taken me many years to partially learn that I am not the boss of me, that all sorts of things (earthquake, stomach ache, iphone not working, losing my keys) can come at any second of any day. Nicaraguans often have a grace in their attitude towards life that I want to learn.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Catching up with my pool friends.
This year I didn't come to Nica until after Christmas. I got a kick out of being with the grandsons and my friend Ron and my charming daughter and so on for the Holidays. I left right after Christmas and got away from the cold and damp of Portland, Oregon just in the nick of time. I missed the sleet and freezing rain and snow. When I got set up at the pool, my friends from Saskatoon, Canada were missing. They arrived today with a tale of woe about how they were delayed three months.
A bad fall, cracked vertebrae, tremendous suffering. We caught up with news of health, kids, the dropping Canadian dollar, all the stuff one catches up on. They had a miracle story about their daughter. We shared that joy. Then we got down to politics. Canadians I meet are mostly appalled with what we put up with in the US. They can't understand why we don't ask for and get a lot more from our taxes. You know like free health care, free high quality education for everyone at all levels, and on and on. I have to remind my dear Canadian friends that we have a much more important job to do here than feeding and housing our children and other soft stuff like that. We have to maintain 900 or so military bases around the planet in 150 or so countries and wage so many wars. Drones and bombs don't come cheap. We have to bring prosperity and freedom and safety to all these places. We have to do the Vietnam, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Iraq, miracle over and over. It isn't easy being us.
They spoke about their pride in their daughter's work in Guatemala, being a voice for the women in mining villages and bringing their struggle out into the light of day.
I ended up telling them a story involving my nieta which I already told on FB. Isabella was so ready for first grade. She knew that it was the big show. Preschools and kindergarten were fun but now she was in a GRADE. She was straight and walking tall and so happy to meet her first class.
When she came home, it was even better. She had learned something important and they were going to study more about it. "What did you learn?" I asked. "Economics." "Huh?" "Economics is the exchange of goods and services for money." She was perfect. She even had the tone of a teacher when she shared this wondrous news.
Marin County, California. Marin is, I guess, the northern suburbs of San Francisco. It is blessed with beautiful nature and weather. It is expensive but mostly not too showy. Like most bedroom communities, there can be a pretty serious commute for many who work. One of the malls is called "The Towne Center". That says a lot to me.
But this curriculum floored me. My memory of the first day of first grade was being in a circle and going around and introducing yourself and giving off an important bit of information like "I have a kitten", or "I have a big brother" and "I like to play soccer". Then the teacher would pass out a few supplies and tell us about the lunch room and then we would play a few games. We would often get the bit about team work and respecting your neighbor and being polite and raising your hand with a question. But studying ecomomics. Never.
A bunch of things are going through my mind. The next four weeks, the teacher was very creative and they made stores and had a lot of fun and learned a lot. I am all for that. When I mentioned that I was shaken by the crassness of this being the leading lesson, I was slammed by a bunch of people. Yes, I could have learned a lot from this lesson at some point in my life. Yes, money is important. Yes, the kids enjoyed it. But, for the 7 1/2 months I spent in Marin, I also saw the toll the keeping up with the Jonses was taking on a lot of people. I saw stress and competition and jealousy and tons of people on antidepressants. Nothing wrong with any of that, But I guess I am still shocked that what I would call the higher value things didn't take the lead. Compassion, peace, acceptance of differences.
I am not worried about my grand daughter because she has a great big heart and a lot of compassion. I am concerned about the direction my country is taking over and over again and what might be a counter force to that direction.
A bad fall, cracked vertebrae, tremendous suffering. We caught up with news of health, kids, the dropping Canadian dollar, all the stuff one catches up on. They had a miracle story about their daughter. We shared that joy. Then we got down to politics. Canadians I meet are mostly appalled with what we put up with in the US. They can't understand why we don't ask for and get a lot more from our taxes. You know like free health care, free high quality education for everyone at all levels, and on and on. I have to remind my dear Canadian friends that we have a much more important job to do here than feeding and housing our children and other soft stuff like that. We have to maintain 900 or so military bases around the planet in 150 or so countries and wage so many wars. Drones and bombs don't come cheap. We have to bring prosperity and freedom and safety to all these places. We have to do the Vietnam, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Iraq, miracle over and over. It isn't easy being us.
They spoke about their pride in their daughter's work in Guatemala, being a voice for the women in mining villages and bringing their struggle out into the light of day.
I ended up telling them a story involving my nieta which I already told on FB. Isabella was so ready for first grade. She knew that it was the big show. Preschools and kindergarten were fun but now she was in a GRADE. She was straight and walking tall and so happy to meet her first class.
When she came home, it was even better. She had learned something important and they were going to study more about it. "What did you learn?" I asked. "Economics." "Huh?" "Economics is the exchange of goods and services for money." She was perfect. She even had the tone of a teacher when she shared this wondrous news.
Marin County, California. Marin is, I guess, the northern suburbs of San Francisco. It is blessed with beautiful nature and weather. It is expensive but mostly not too showy. Like most bedroom communities, there can be a pretty serious commute for many who work. One of the malls is called "The Towne Center". That says a lot to me.
But this curriculum floored me. My memory of the first day of first grade was being in a circle and going around and introducing yourself and giving off an important bit of information like "I have a kitten", or "I have a big brother" and "I like to play soccer". Then the teacher would pass out a few supplies and tell us about the lunch room and then we would play a few games. We would often get the bit about team work and respecting your neighbor and being polite and raising your hand with a question. But studying ecomomics. Never.
A bunch of things are going through my mind. The next four weeks, the teacher was very creative and they made stores and had a lot of fun and learned a lot. I am all for that. When I mentioned that I was shaken by the crassness of this being the leading lesson, I was slammed by a bunch of people. Yes, I could have learned a lot from this lesson at some point in my life. Yes, money is important. Yes, the kids enjoyed it. But, for the 7 1/2 months I spent in Marin, I also saw the toll the keeping up with the Jonses was taking on a lot of people. I saw stress and competition and jealousy and tons of people on antidepressants. Nothing wrong with any of that, But I guess I am still shocked that what I would call the higher value things didn't take the lead. Compassion, peace, acceptance of differences.
I am not worried about my grand daughter because she has a great big heart and a lot of compassion. I am concerned about the direction my country is taking over and over again and what might be a counter force to that direction.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
"I like this country, not many Blacks or Arabs here." I almost dropped dead.
So, the foreigners, especially the United Statesians, are a weird bunch here in Nica. There are the "I had to get away from the cold." folks who don't add "to a inexpensive place that I can afford." There are the creepy old men who want the cheap young girls and the cheap booze, there are great people of all ages who happen to love Nicaragua and her warm, open people, there are CIA people, (still!), there are the surfers, there are the travelers, there are the church people (never forget the Mormons), there are the volunteers building schools, there are people who can't go back to their own countries for numerous reasons, there are romantic people who remember the faded dream of the revolution, and there are the Tea Party people who hate the USA because of "big government" and President Obama and are looking for their next big chance. And lots more.
I like Nica very much. I can afford to be warm and well fed here. I strongly supported the revolution and wonder often what might have come of it had my country not killed it before it was fully birthed. Everyone has a story, and I from my lofty Buddhist perspective understand that everyone is making her own karma.
But this dude at the pool today flipped my shit. I was talking to this French guy, well, he was talking to me. Kind of talking big. He was born in Cameroon. His parents still lived there running a furniture factory, he said. He didn't see a future in Africa because of the Chinese. OK. He moved back to France somewhere in the Loire Valley. Got restless. Came to Costa Rica but the people he met there weren't that interested in his big money making ideas. Read "It was too expensive there." So Nica seemed like a great place for him. He has been here 2 days.
Just then my English friend Sue came and she can spot a phoney faster than anyone. She was a professor at the London School of Economics. She has met her share of phonies. I took off to beg the bar guy to turn down the disco music and order my frozen limeade. When I came back Sue was freezing this guy out. I didn't care. I can't give a 2 year old advice on starting a business. He soon left and she mentioned that when I was away he had said the he rather liked this country because there weren't too many Blacks or Arabs here.
I am glad I missed it because of my pledge of nonviolence, but I can't get it out of my mind. What is going on in this world? My grand daughter, grade one, told me that she had no school because it was King's birthday. I asked her what she had heard about Martin Luther King. She said he wanted love and peace. Then she told me the big news that he was dead. I said he was still alive for me because I remember his dream and what he wanted. She got excited and said she did too.
I like Nica very much. I can afford to be warm and well fed here. I strongly supported the revolution and wonder often what might have come of it had my country not killed it before it was fully birthed. Everyone has a story, and I from my lofty Buddhist perspective understand that everyone is making her own karma.
But this dude at the pool today flipped my shit. I was talking to this French guy, well, he was talking to me. Kind of talking big. He was born in Cameroon. His parents still lived there running a furniture factory, he said. He didn't see a future in Africa because of the Chinese. OK. He moved back to France somewhere in the Loire Valley. Got restless. Came to Costa Rica but the people he met there weren't that interested in his big money making ideas. Read "It was too expensive there." So Nica seemed like a great place for him. He has been here 2 days.
Just then my English friend Sue came and she can spot a phoney faster than anyone. She was a professor at the London School of Economics. She has met her share of phonies. I took off to beg the bar guy to turn down the disco music and order my frozen limeade. When I came back Sue was freezing this guy out. I didn't care. I can't give a 2 year old advice on starting a business. He soon left and she mentioned that when I was away he had said the he rather liked this country because there weren't too many Blacks or Arabs here.
I am glad I missed it because of my pledge of nonviolence, but I can't get it out of my mind. What is going on in this world? My grand daughter, grade one, told me that she had no school because it was King's birthday. I asked her what she had heard about Martin Luther King. She said he wanted love and peace. Then she told me the big news that he was dead. I said he was still alive for me because I remember his dream and what he wanted. She got excited and said she did too.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Please Use Some Common Sense!
This was my plea to a Canadian woman the other day. I am sometimes perceived as a risk taker. I am sometimes thought to be courageous. I can be a space shot from time to time. That being said, I know I actually, when everything is functioning normally, have a lot of common sense.
The other day I ended up talking to a woman who frustrated me. She was a nice woman from Canada who is here in Nicaragua working on a schools project. We were walking along the lake on a Sunday afternoon. Hundreds of people come to this area to escape the heat of Managua. Huge family groups spend all day chatting, eating, drinking beer and smoothies. It is a lovely scene.On Sundays that is. It is completely deserted the rest of the week. Well, this Canadian woman said proudly that she goes there every morning for her walk. I told her that was a bad idea, especially if she was alone and came at a regular time.
She looked at me as if I were crazy. I mentioned that it was unsafe to do so. She said it was fine. She had done it for five days in a row. I said it was a bad idea. She said a lot of gringos seemed to be paranoid. I didn't take up the challenge. I mean she was shutting me down, shutting me up. I held back from telling her why it was a bad idea. Any idiot could sort that one.
We walked and talked intermittently . It was hard to talk much over the waves of the lake and the blaring of disco music from the bars.Then she asked me where I went swimming up at the Laguna. The Laguna is a spectacular volcano crater filled with heavenly pure warm water. I told her that now that my friends have a house there I go to their place. I used to go to The Monkey Hut where you pay a few bucks and have guards and bathrooms and cold drinks. She said she wouldn't pay money to swim where all the people are on a lake with many miles of easy access and no people. I said that was a bad idea. Really bad. She seemed to think that anyone who would go to the Monkey Hut was an idiot.
OK, so I started to tell her that perhaps there was a very good reason that everyone did that like being a rich gringo (anyone who can afford a plane ticket), a woman, alone, vulnerable and so on might prove a temptation for barefoot, hungry, local thugs. Again with the "You are so paranoid" look. So, my question to myself was, "Should I paint the picture?" My answer to myself was "Start to and take your cue from her."
The cue was that she knew best.
I hope she doesn't become one of the stories I never told her.
Several incidents in my now distant past came to mind. One was the time about 30 years ago when I went to a shack on a quiet beach in Costa Rica to rent boogie boards for my kids. The guy said the boards were 1$ a day, but he needed 100$ deposit on each one. Huh? "Because when they drown, I never get my boards back." We left. My kids thought I was uptight.
Then there was the time when we hired a taxi to take us to a beautiful beach in Mexico. We couldn't believe it was empty and people were swimming at a much inferior beach. Randomly, as we arrived, my son asked the taxi man what the name of the beach was. "Shark beach." We left.
Then there was the time in Guatemala when we were cramming ourselves onto a chicken bus and I told the bus driver where I wanted to be dropped off. This was during the war. He looked down, and then caught my eyes with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head,"No." I asked him where to go and he told me another village. Later we found out that there was a terrible incident (massacre) happening in the direction we were heading and he saved us.
No one is foolproof. I can be too thick or distracted or frazzled to take a warning, but I am not too stubborn like that Canadian lady. A little bit of common sense goes a long way.
The other day I ended up talking to a woman who frustrated me. She was a nice woman from Canada who is here in Nicaragua working on a schools project. We were walking along the lake on a Sunday afternoon. Hundreds of people come to this area to escape the heat of Managua. Huge family groups spend all day chatting, eating, drinking beer and smoothies. It is a lovely scene.On Sundays that is. It is completely deserted the rest of the week. Well, this Canadian woman said proudly that she goes there every morning for her walk. I told her that was a bad idea, especially if she was alone and came at a regular time.
She looked at me as if I were crazy. I mentioned that it was unsafe to do so. She said it was fine. She had done it for five days in a row. I said it was a bad idea. She said a lot of gringos seemed to be paranoid. I didn't take up the challenge. I mean she was shutting me down, shutting me up. I held back from telling her why it was a bad idea. Any idiot could sort that one.
We walked and talked intermittently . It was hard to talk much over the waves of the lake and the blaring of disco music from the bars.Then she asked me where I went swimming up at the Laguna. The Laguna is a spectacular volcano crater filled with heavenly pure warm water. I told her that now that my friends have a house there I go to their place. I used to go to The Monkey Hut where you pay a few bucks and have guards and bathrooms and cold drinks. She said she wouldn't pay money to swim where all the people are on a lake with many miles of easy access and no people. I said that was a bad idea. Really bad. She seemed to think that anyone who would go to the Monkey Hut was an idiot.
OK, so I started to tell her that perhaps there was a very good reason that everyone did that like being a rich gringo (anyone who can afford a plane ticket), a woman, alone, vulnerable and so on might prove a temptation for barefoot, hungry, local thugs. Again with the "You are so paranoid" look. So, my question to myself was, "Should I paint the picture?" My answer to myself was "Start to and take your cue from her."
The cue was that she knew best.
I hope she doesn't become one of the stories I never told her.
Several incidents in my now distant past came to mind. One was the time about 30 years ago when I went to a shack on a quiet beach in Costa Rica to rent boogie boards for my kids. The guy said the boards were 1$ a day, but he needed 100$ deposit on each one. Huh? "Because when they drown, I never get my boards back." We left. My kids thought I was uptight.
Then there was the time when we hired a taxi to take us to a beautiful beach in Mexico. We couldn't believe it was empty and people were swimming at a much inferior beach. Randomly, as we arrived, my son asked the taxi man what the name of the beach was. "Shark beach." We left.
Then there was the time in Guatemala when we were cramming ourselves onto a chicken bus and I told the bus driver where I wanted to be dropped off. This was during the war. He looked down, and then caught my eyes with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head,"No." I asked him where to go and he told me another village. Later we found out that there was a terrible incident (massacre) happening in the direction we were heading and he saved us.
No one is foolproof. I can be too thick or distracted or frazzled to take a warning, but I am not too stubborn like that Canadian lady. A little bit of common sense goes a long way.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
"Who Are You Wearing?"
So, the question of the day to the actors on the award shows is "Who are you wearing?" Because of the east-west time difference, we get to see the actors in full evening dress in the afternoon sunshine. That's weird to me. It also seems weird to me that the focus is on the designer of the dress or tux. My guess is that in a few years the question will be "How much did your dress cost?" Everyone who is in the know can calculate easily such info from any given designers name. Everyone else must feel a little out of it. Back in my day (ahem) one recognized a Channel suit because Channel had a signature look, not because you asked. "Who designed that suit?" That would have shown ignorance which no one wants to show. Am I right?
Back in my day, you didn't have to have your people call every one's people to find out whether you would be wearing the same dress. A designer designed for you alone and the designer had a say in what worked on your body. That simply can not be true anymore.
That question aside, dressing up is a chance for an actor to be themselves, make their own costume choices and project their own character for a minute. That must be a little exciting. Are they the aging actress trying to look fifteen? Are they the actress who can't walk in her dress? Is that one the princess she seems to be?
My perception is that we all do this all day everyday. Certain conditions cage us in or give us more freedom. I can awake in the morning and decide whether I will be sporty, or hippie, or Yankee preppy, or sweat pants depressed or any number of options. I hate shopping and I own very little but I can be a lot of characters with what I have. In a kind of way we aren't much different from any previous era. You can almost always tell a Seattle person by his bicycle pants, a Marbleheader by the tennis skirt, a Parisian by her shoes and so on. In England, not so long ago, a banker wore a Bowler hat, a judge wore a wig, a country person wore tweeds and practical shoes. We dress as the character we are playing at.
My sense is that the real question that could be asked on the red carpet and to most people at any given time is "Who are you today?" and better yet, "Is your inside happy with your outside today?"
I am not dismissing the "fake it 'til you make it" approach. Nothing lightens life faster than answering "Great!" when asked "How are you?" But, there must be a better question than "Who are you wearing today?" Really.
Back in my day, you didn't have to have your people call every one's people to find out whether you would be wearing the same dress. A designer designed for you alone and the designer had a say in what worked on your body. That simply can not be true anymore.
That question aside, dressing up is a chance for an actor to be themselves, make their own costume choices and project their own character for a minute. That must be a little exciting. Are they the aging actress trying to look fifteen? Are they the actress who can't walk in her dress? Is that one the princess she seems to be?
My perception is that we all do this all day everyday. Certain conditions cage us in or give us more freedom. I can awake in the morning and decide whether I will be sporty, or hippie, or Yankee preppy, or sweat pants depressed or any number of options. I hate shopping and I own very little but I can be a lot of characters with what I have. In a kind of way we aren't much different from any previous era. You can almost always tell a Seattle person by his bicycle pants, a Marbleheader by the tennis skirt, a Parisian by her shoes and so on. In England, not so long ago, a banker wore a Bowler hat, a judge wore a wig, a country person wore tweeds and practical shoes. We dress as the character we are playing at.
My sense is that the real question that could be asked on the red carpet and to most people at any given time is "Who are you today?" and better yet, "Is your inside happy with your outside today?"
I am not dismissing the "fake it 'til you make it" approach. Nothing lightens life faster than answering "Great!" when asked "How are you?" But, there must be a better question than "Who are you wearing today?" Really.
Friday, January 16, 2015
Do you ever forget to star in your own movie?
I met a man at a party last night who is clearly the star in his own movie. He had that certain, je ne sais quoi, that great people famous or hidden all seem to have. In this case he was handsome, rich, funny, and seemed to be full of himself in a good way. No, I am not in crush. I fall for mostly priests and monks. I really do. I rather like the more anonymous men, those dedicated to a 'higher' calling. I am not talking about self righteous do gooders. For instance, I think the Dalai Lama is one of the sexiest men alive.
I like people who are not floundering about their identity and wondering what the meaning of this life is. I think that is alluring. I don't often get my man.Well, that might be an understatement. The thing is that if I can captivate a man's interest, my interest dwindles. Dr. Freud, are you having fun yet?
I don't know why I am going on about this except this man, William made a very strong impression. He was captivating to talk with because he put the focus on the other person, listening as though the whole world depended on the other. Really, I was watching. Whether he is an ass hole or a drug dealer or just a charming man, he reminded me that it is much more appealing to be fully in the moment and put your best foot forward. This sounds dumb like a hackneyed old line from "How to Win Friends and Influence People" but what I experienced and watched other experience was that he seemed to bring out the best in other people. That is cool. You didn't really want to whine about your septic system in that context. And believe me, I have been to expat parties where whining was the sport of the day.
I might be giving this William a lot more credit than he deserves. There were a lot of utterly accomplished people from many countries at this gathering. There was a good purpose to the party. These people are working to get the electric transformers covered so that hundreds of monkeys don't get electrocuted every year. Dude.
But I am grateful that I was reminded that we are not only the star, but the writer, producer, director of our lives. I can't control anything, that is obvious. If I could there would be no GMO foods, no wars, no sick people. But, I can eliminate scenes that don't serve. I can choose the tone. I can invite great people in. I can do better.
I like people who are not floundering about their identity and wondering what the meaning of this life is. I think that is alluring. I don't often get my man.Well, that might be an understatement. The thing is that if I can captivate a man's interest, my interest dwindles. Dr. Freud, are you having fun yet?
I don't know why I am going on about this except this man, William made a very strong impression. He was captivating to talk with because he put the focus on the other person, listening as though the whole world depended on the other. Really, I was watching. Whether he is an ass hole or a drug dealer or just a charming man, he reminded me that it is much more appealing to be fully in the moment and put your best foot forward. This sounds dumb like a hackneyed old line from "How to Win Friends and Influence People" but what I experienced and watched other experience was that he seemed to bring out the best in other people. That is cool. You didn't really want to whine about your septic system in that context. And believe me, I have been to expat parties where whining was the sport of the day.
I might be giving this William a lot more credit than he deserves. There were a lot of utterly accomplished people from many countries at this gathering. There was a good purpose to the party. These people are working to get the electric transformers covered so that hundreds of monkeys don't get electrocuted every year. Dude.
But I am grateful that I was reminded that we are not only the star, but the writer, producer, director of our lives. I can't control anything, that is obvious. If I could there would be no GMO foods, no wars, no sick people. But, I can eliminate scenes that don't serve. I can choose the tone. I can invite great people in. I can do better.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
If You Don't Have a Sense of Humor, You Are Fucked.
What is this sweet little old lady getting at? Firstly, I can't see how political correctness has improved the situation for any group. Hidden prejudice seems to fester more than overt. I am not sure I am right about this, but racial problems couldn't be worse right now, the world over. I suspect that the young people need to be our saviors here. In the USA, younger people just can't work up the terror, anger, righteousness about gay marriage that older people have been freaking out about forever. That's a good thing in my little world. Hopefully, soon we can put that issue to rest as we put my generation to their eternal rest. That along with many others.
One thing fundamentalists of any stripe seem to have in common is a complete lack of humor about themselves. And, really, pretty much every religion is by its very nature pretty funny. I am a Catholic of sorts, but I could see a lot of humor in having a birds and the bees talk with a teenager and then throwing in the Virgin Birth and explaining that. I can see a lot of humor in soldiers over thousands of years claiming to follow Judaism and talking their way out of the "Thou Shall Not Kill" problem. Christians of all ages have wiggled their way out of Jesus' ideas about "Love Your Neighbor As You Love Yourself." There is a lot of wiggle room there. Oh my God, take any page in the Bible and take it literally and you could die laughing.
But, the literalists don't see the humor. I think most of the creation stories I have read are beautiful, evocative, and real. They are real to me in that they offer another inspired picture of how we got here. But I am not going to kill someone because they don't believe that God is an ear of corn (although I like food images a lot). I am not going to kill anyone anyway but especially not for not believing that eating meat on Friday is a sin. I do not like the art work in Charlie Hebdo, never have. I do not like racism, but I suspect that I probably have some unconscious dirty little knee-jerk crap that could surprise me. But, although I take my spiritual life seriously, especially when things aren't going my way, really it is pretty bizarre when taken literally or dissected.
For me, today, the issues are very muddled. What is religious hatred (should those words even sit together?) and what is racism and what is political economic maneuvering and what is nationalism? Nothing quite makes sense. I mean are Arabs even a race? The name Iran stands for Aryan. That is confusing. I am very confused and I am sad. I am sad if we are launched to replay the Crusades, the Holocaust, the extermination of Indigenous Peoples the world over.
Lama Marut says the best way to get rid of an irritating person is to see what bad karma they are making for themselves and generate compassion. An irritating person can be someone who is cutting into the line at the super or someone pointing a gun at you. Same thing. It is impossible to love and hate at the same time. I have tried it. I think it helps to look at myself and have a good laugh and then step off my high horse. I have even tried this with Sarah Palin. In reality, I am as rediculous as she is. Tina Fey where are you when I need you?
One thing fundamentalists of any stripe seem to have in common is a complete lack of humor about themselves. And, really, pretty much every religion is by its very nature pretty funny. I am a Catholic of sorts, but I could see a lot of humor in having a birds and the bees talk with a teenager and then throwing in the Virgin Birth and explaining that. I can see a lot of humor in soldiers over thousands of years claiming to follow Judaism and talking their way out of the "Thou Shall Not Kill" problem. Christians of all ages have wiggled their way out of Jesus' ideas about "Love Your Neighbor As You Love Yourself." There is a lot of wiggle room there. Oh my God, take any page in the Bible and take it literally and you could die laughing.
But, the literalists don't see the humor. I think most of the creation stories I have read are beautiful, evocative, and real. They are real to me in that they offer another inspired picture of how we got here. But I am not going to kill someone because they don't believe that God is an ear of corn (although I like food images a lot). I am not going to kill anyone anyway but especially not for not believing that eating meat on Friday is a sin. I do not like the art work in Charlie Hebdo, never have. I do not like racism, but I suspect that I probably have some unconscious dirty little knee-jerk crap that could surprise me. But, although I take my spiritual life seriously, especially when things aren't going my way, really it is pretty bizarre when taken literally or dissected.
For me, today, the issues are very muddled. What is religious hatred (should those words even sit together?) and what is racism and what is political economic maneuvering and what is nationalism? Nothing quite makes sense. I mean are Arabs even a race? The name Iran stands for Aryan. That is confusing. I am very confused and I am sad. I am sad if we are launched to replay the Crusades, the Holocaust, the extermination of Indigenous Peoples the world over.
Lama Marut says the best way to get rid of an irritating person is to see what bad karma they are making for themselves and generate compassion. An irritating person can be someone who is cutting into the line at the super or someone pointing a gun at you. Same thing. It is impossible to love and hate at the same time. I have tried it. I think it helps to look at myself and have a good laugh and then step off my high horse. I have even tried this with Sarah Palin. In reality, I am as rediculous as she is. Tina Fey where are you when I need you?
Friday, January 9, 2015
Je suis Charlie! Where can the healing begin?
As an ignorant bystander, I still have a voice. My gut feeling is that prejudice has roots that are so deep that many layers of the onion need to be peeled off. One layer which is particularly stubborn is our ignorant perception that there is not enough. In the USA today this is cause for concern. Many of us have too much of everything or at least too much of the wrong things. We are drowning in stuff. In many places second hand stores and Goodwill Industries can't even accept new donations. They are buried. Self storage places are filled o the gills and many are not even bothering with small units anymore. The demand is for huge units. So much shit to keep. It would be hard to argue that fat isn't a huge problem. OK so much of it is high fructose corn syrup and not really food but while suffering the diseases of junk food, we still endure the hunger and pain of millions of kids who have nothing. We cut food stamps. We fear immigration because the newcomers will take away from what we have. I may be one of the people paying billions a year to get rid of fat, but I will not share my food with a hungry child especially if she has a darker skin color.
If we could pray once a day Lama Marut's favorite mantra, "I have enough." we might start to feel a shift. Every religion has some ingredient that boils down to "Give and you shall receive." It makes sense.
We could practice finding happiness in the well being of others. This little practice can generate a lot of happiness which is what we crave, isn't it? Must we always think that distraction gives happiness, especially if we can fool ourselves into thinking it makes us special? One genius of Steve Jobs was to give a billion iPhone users to conceit that they we uniquely special to own this device. Or as Disney Land gets pricier, even as millions go, you get the illusion of privilege from the idea that millions can't do it. Never mind that Disney is up there with with worst labor exploiters on planet earth. I can have my day of distraction standing in line and it is better because others can't have it.
I am not a Communist or even a Socialist. I don't think we have hit upon an "ist' that works yet. One reason is that our deep down inner attitude is deeply flawed. We have to be better than someone to feel better about ourselves. This doesn't make sense.
I suspect that the place to start to heal the nightmare that is currently unfolding in Paris, in Australia, in the USA, in Syria, In Yemen, in Afghanistan, in Iraq, and so on, would be to make a change in the Palestinian/Israeli situation. That seems to be the microcosm of the macrocosm. It is not impossible. It can be done. It is probably simple. I fear that nothing on the world stage can get better until this tiny piece of geography is resolved. That should be the shining light on the hill, the beacon that leads others to finding peace. I vote for Jesus, Mohammed, and Moses to all land at the same moment and put some common sense in front of the intransigent humans. If we want happiness we are going about it in the wrong way. If that isn't obvious to everyone, then we are in deeper trouble than I can imagine. "I have enough."
If we could pray once a day Lama Marut's favorite mantra, "I have enough." we might start to feel a shift. Every religion has some ingredient that boils down to "Give and you shall receive." It makes sense.
We could practice finding happiness in the well being of others. This little practice can generate a lot of happiness which is what we crave, isn't it? Must we always think that distraction gives happiness, especially if we can fool ourselves into thinking it makes us special? One genius of Steve Jobs was to give a billion iPhone users to conceit that they we uniquely special to own this device. Or as Disney Land gets pricier, even as millions go, you get the illusion of privilege from the idea that millions can't do it. Never mind that Disney is up there with with worst labor exploiters on planet earth. I can have my day of distraction standing in line and it is better because others can't have it.
I am not a Communist or even a Socialist. I don't think we have hit upon an "ist' that works yet. One reason is that our deep down inner attitude is deeply flawed. We have to be better than someone to feel better about ourselves. This doesn't make sense.
I suspect that the place to start to heal the nightmare that is currently unfolding in Paris, in Australia, in the USA, in Syria, In Yemen, in Afghanistan, in Iraq, and so on, would be to make a change in the Palestinian/Israeli situation. That seems to be the microcosm of the macrocosm. It is not impossible. It can be done. It is probably simple. I fear that nothing on the world stage can get better until this tiny piece of geography is resolved. That should be the shining light on the hill, the beacon that leads others to finding peace. I vote for Jesus, Mohammed, and Moses to all land at the same moment and put some common sense in front of the intransigent humans. If we want happiness we are going about it in the wrong way. If that isn't obvious to everyone, then we are in deeper trouble than I can imagine. "I have enough."
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Hola amigos y amigas! Are old people invisible?
Lots of stuff on my mind. One thought, feeling, intuition, that comes to mind goes something like this: You know how we often, insensitively, call homeless people "the homeless"? Well, I don't yet know whether it is good or bad, but "old people" or "retired folks" feels like a similar grouping. Looking at homeless people as "the homeless" gives us an out from real engagement. They are not Louisa or Mark. If they were, we would have to greet them, hear their stories, be involved, however fleetingly. As an aging woman, I have been feeling that my life and my past and my joys and sorrows are for the most past not of interest or at least not accessible to others.
This is not a moan or a bad thing, nor is it to say I am in anyway ignored or marginalized by my friends and family. It is something else I am trying to get at. Firstly, in the USA we tend to start every new encounter with the question, "What do you do?". Answers like, "I go where it is warm." or "I take my granddaughter for walks." or "I volunteer at Greenpeace." are excellent conversation stoppers. You never even get to "I invented the MRI machine" or "I saved a village in Guatemala." or "I painted the Sistine Chapel." let alone "We stopped the building of the second Seabrook NH nuke and that stopped all nuclear power construction in the US up to now.
For an initial negative observation, most young people know no history. Sorry. But this is true. Remember the nice young lady with a Masters Degree from an outstanding college who informed me that the USA was not just the first but the only democracy in the world and where had I been if I didn't know this. On my side, I am slower and back off from rhapsodic talk about new phones or tablets or the joys of fancy brands. I am kind of done with stuff. I also have to work hard to be interested in non-action complaints. If you don't like something do something to make it better or at least stop buying it. So, I am probably a bit more rigid than I was when I was younger. Yes, I am most definitely.
I am bumbling here, trying to make sense of life at a new stage. There is a tremendous freedom in being nobody. I don't have to keep up any image and there is no hustle to impress. There is a peaceful anonymity. But there is also a rather uncomfortable invisibility. I am convinced that a lot of really great people were humble. I would like to be humble, but it is a little like squeezing the genii back into the bottle to let go of that ego rush of the past.
Just saying...
This is not a moan or a bad thing, nor is it to say I am in anyway ignored or marginalized by my friends and family. It is something else I am trying to get at. Firstly, in the USA we tend to start every new encounter with the question, "What do you do?". Answers like, "I go where it is warm." or "I take my granddaughter for walks." or "I volunteer at Greenpeace." are excellent conversation stoppers. You never even get to "I invented the MRI machine" or "I saved a village in Guatemala." or "I painted the Sistine Chapel." let alone "We stopped the building of the second Seabrook NH nuke and that stopped all nuclear power construction in the US up to now.
For an initial negative observation, most young people know no history. Sorry. But this is true. Remember the nice young lady with a Masters Degree from an outstanding college who informed me that the USA was not just the first but the only democracy in the world and where had I been if I didn't know this. On my side, I am slower and back off from rhapsodic talk about new phones or tablets or the joys of fancy brands. I am kind of done with stuff. I also have to work hard to be interested in non-action complaints. If you don't like something do something to make it better or at least stop buying it. So, I am probably a bit more rigid than I was when I was younger. Yes, I am most definitely.
I am bumbling here, trying to make sense of life at a new stage. There is a tremendous freedom in being nobody. I don't have to keep up any image and there is no hustle to impress. There is a peaceful anonymity. But there is also a rather uncomfortable invisibility. I am convinced that a lot of really great people were humble. I would like to be humble, but it is a little like squeezing the genii back into the bottle to let go of that ego rush of the past.
Just saying...
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Simple Karma - Difficult Change - Si se Puede
So, here's the thing: It seems like every time I find a perfect moment here in Marin, it is instantly interrupted by the grating, disturbing noise of a leaf blower or a hedge trimmer. Poor me. I am not saying occasionally I am interrupted, I am saying almost every time. I think the little yard next door gets trimmed about five times a day. No shit!
So, at first I decided that I wasn't choosing my spots very well. I tried different locations. Have you ever noticed how much noise a garbage truck can make? Astounding. Then I realized this problem was happening at other locations. No matter how much strategy I employed, at church or Buddhist meditation or in business meetings, I invariably have someone sit next to me who is coughing, chewing, muttering trying to get a wrapper off of something. It drives me crazy.
I am forced to think about my karma in this. I say forced because I have finally given up on blaming others. This is my problem. What then is the karmic cause for being disturbed by noise when I seek peace and quiet? I must be making noise which disturbs others. Everything has a cause. Everything has an effect.
Well, yes. The downstairs condo lady says our heavy foot steps bother her. I have been trying to remember to tiptoe around in the morning and evening. But, it has to be more than that. In the Catholic doctrine, a sin can be committed in thought, word or deed. Bingo! There it is. The noise I generate by thinking and speaking criticisms of others is enough racket to cause a lot of trouble.
We educated, hip, modern souls learned the lessons of critical thinking very well. We can rip apart a book or a movie or a policy or a person with elegant logic and articulate another persons faults with remarkable precision. This is the noise that I contribute to the world. The world gives back in good measure.
This is yet another task I must practice. If I want peace and quiet, I must first live it. I have to set up the causes which will reward me with what I want. Right now I am the biggest loser in this conflict.
So, at first I decided that I wasn't choosing my spots very well. I tried different locations. Have you ever noticed how much noise a garbage truck can make? Astounding. Then I realized this problem was happening at other locations. No matter how much strategy I employed, at church or Buddhist meditation or in business meetings, I invariably have someone sit next to me who is coughing, chewing, muttering trying to get a wrapper off of something. It drives me crazy.
I am forced to think about my karma in this. I say forced because I have finally given up on blaming others. This is my problem. What then is the karmic cause for being disturbed by noise when I seek peace and quiet? I must be making noise which disturbs others. Everything has a cause. Everything has an effect.
Well, yes. The downstairs condo lady says our heavy foot steps bother her. I have been trying to remember to tiptoe around in the morning and evening. But, it has to be more than that. In the Catholic doctrine, a sin can be committed in thought, word or deed. Bingo! There it is. The noise I generate by thinking and speaking criticisms of others is enough racket to cause a lot of trouble.
We educated, hip, modern souls learned the lessons of critical thinking very well. We can rip apart a book or a movie or a policy or a person with elegant logic and articulate another persons faults with remarkable precision. This is the noise that I contribute to the world. The world gives back in good measure.
This is yet another task I must practice. If I want peace and quiet, I must first live it. I have to set up the causes which will reward me with what I want. Right now I am the biggest loser in this conflict.
Friday, August 1, 2014
If You Have to Kill, Try Killing With Kindness
The Seven Social Sins, sometimes called the Seven Blunders of the World, is a list that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi published in his weekly newspaper Young India on October 22, 1925.[1] Later he gave this same list to his grandson, Arun Gandhi, written on a piece of paper on their final day together shortly before his assassination.[2] The Seven Sins are:
In any conflict, both sides can get mighty righteous. That is why they embark on the destructive ugly road of conflict. Every act of violence sets the stage for future ones. We have to be idiots not to notice this. Lama Marut says that ignorance isn't not knowing. It is ignoring what you know. Wow.
When Gandhi wrote of these Blunders, he was trying to articulate the root causes of violence. My experience of bringing these ideas to friends has been a thunderous silence. For most of my friends, the very first point "Wealth Without Work" is already a deal breaker. What are some ways of getting wealth without work? Stealing. Using slave labor. Conquering. Stock market. Oops. Inheritance can put some distance, that's good.
Why do I keep bringing this up? I guess that I am stubborn and a bit pig headed. Or very pig headed. I am not shoving this conversation at you, dear readers, because I am righteous, but rather because I am struggling to figure out my life and the context in which I live.
Of course I am dismayed about the suffering that is happening right now in the world. But on a simple personal level, I am struggling between the act of turning the other cheek and that of standing up for myself. Great ideas both, but neither quite gets me out of a reactive mode.I need to find the root cause of my getting into the situation in which I have to react.
If Buddhism or Christianity has it right, the problem is my little ego. If 'I' was not attached to an outcome and let God's will enter the picture, 'I' couldn't possibly have a problem, could I? If I am one with the universe, then there is no Julie in any case so I can't possibly have a problem. I am confused.
- Wealth without work.
- Pleasure without conscience.
- Knowledge without character.
- Commerce without morality.
- Science without humanity.
- Worship without sacrifice.
- Politics without principle.
In any conflict, both sides can get mighty righteous. That is why they embark on the destructive ugly road of conflict. Every act of violence sets the stage for future ones. We have to be idiots not to notice this. Lama Marut says that ignorance isn't not knowing. It is ignoring what you know. Wow.
When Gandhi wrote of these Blunders, he was trying to articulate the root causes of violence. My experience of bringing these ideas to friends has been a thunderous silence. For most of my friends, the very first point "Wealth Without Work" is already a deal breaker. What are some ways of getting wealth without work? Stealing. Using slave labor. Conquering. Stock market. Oops. Inheritance can put some distance, that's good.
Why do I keep bringing this up? I guess that I am stubborn and a bit pig headed. Or very pig headed. I am not shoving this conversation at you, dear readers, because I am righteous, but rather because I am struggling to figure out my life and the context in which I live.
Of course I am dismayed about the suffering that is happening right now in the world. But on a simple personal level, I am struggling between the act of turning the other cheek and that of standing up for myself. Great ideas both, but neither quite gets me out of a reactive mode.I need to find the root cause of my getting into the situation in which I have to react.
If Buddhism or Christianity has it right, the problem is my little ego. If 'I' was not attached to an outcome and let God's will enter the picture, 'I' couldn't possibly have a problem, could I? If I am one with the universe, then there is no Julie in any case so I can't possibly have a problem. I am confused.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Israel/Palestine..Another Shit Storm
I have many more questions than answers, believe me. My tendency always is to side with the oppressed. My stance is against war. War is a stupid, useless, act of ugliness and pain and waste. It is never nice. It always seems to force both sides into becoming that which they despise in the other. It requires no creativity. It is cave man crap.
Any reader of my blog knows well that this is how I think. But on this Israel Palestine horror, I have questions that I think need to be addressed;
Firstly, Is this a religious war or a political one?The Israelis are almost always described as Jews. That sounds like religion, but maybe it is being used as a racial thing. That forces the discussion about politics into the religious arena. If you are against the tactics of Israel you must be against Jews. Messy thinking.
The Palestinians are often described as Arab. That is confusing as most Palestinians through genetics are descended from Jews. The Muslim conquests resulted in conversions over the years. There was also, historically a large Christian population among the converts. Very bewildering to me. Most Palestinians are now refugees in other countries. Most Palestinians speak both Arabic and Hebrew. It seems to me that they have a lot of common ground with the history of the Jewish people.
What occurs to me is that if this is a religious war, then the discussion and solution of the never ending crisis should be hammered out by religious people, not soldiers and so called diplomats from countries that can hardly be distinguished from the combatants. Why the hell is a US president or State Department person in Egypt talking to God knows whom about what we will accept or not?
If this is a religious war, then get the leaders of the great religions of the world to be the peace talk participants. Pope Francis, Dalai Lama, Thich Naht Hahn, Chief John Pretty on Top, Desmond Tutu...why aren't they in Jerusalem making peace? Pope Francis gave a powerful statement yesterday begging both sides to STOP IT NOW!
Do thoughts like this belie the whole idea that this is about religion? Are the Israelis hiding behind the Jewish identity? Are they deliberately conflagrating the issue for sympathy? Are the Sunnis doing the same thing? What lies are people dying for? What lies are people killing for? I am confused.
Can any US citizen not remember what we did to the first peoples here on our soil when we get righteous about what we are doing to the Palestinians? This is what we do. We use overwhelming power to get land and resources. Think about it.
In El Salvador, the thirty year civil war stopped almost to the day we stopped funding it. Just a thought.
Any reader of my blog knows well that this is how I think. But on this Israel Palestine horror, I have questions that I think need to be addressed;
Firstly, Is this a religious war or a political one?The Israelis are almost always described as Jews. That sounds like religion, but maybe it is being used as a racial thing. That forces the discussion about politics into the religious arena. If you are against the tactics of Israel you must be against Jews. Messy thinking.
The Palestinians are often described as Arab. That is confusing as most Palestinians through genetics are descended from Jews. The Muslim conquests resulted in conversions over the years. There was also, historically a large Christian population among the converts. Very bewildering to me. Most Palestinians are now refugees in other countries. Most Palestinians speak both Arabic and Hebrew. It seems to me that they have a lot of common ground with the history of the Jewish people.
What occurs to me is that if this is a religious war, then the discussion and solution of the never ending crisis should be hammered out by religious people, not soldiers and so called diplomats from countries that can hardly be distinguished from the combatants. Why the hell is a US president or State Department person in Egypt talking to God knows whom about what we will accept or not?
If this is a religious war, then get the leaders of the great religions of the world to be the peace talk participants. Pope Francis, Dalai Lama, Thich Naht Hahn, Chief John Pretty on Top, Desmond Tutu...why aren't they in Jerusalem making peace? Pope Francis gave a powerful statement yesterday begging both sides to STOP IT NOW!
Do thoughts like this belie the whole idea that this is about religion? Are the Israelis hiding behind the Jewish identity? Are they deliberately conflagrating the issue for sympathy? Are the Sunnis doing the same thing? What lies are people dying for? What lies are people killing for? I am confused.
Can any US citizen not remember what we did to the first peoples here on our soil when we get righteous about what we are doing to the Palestinians? This is what we do. We use overwhelming power to get land and resources. Think about it.
In El Salvador, the thirty year civil war stopped almost to the day we stopped funding it. Just a thought.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Thoughts Reflecting on a Museum Visit
Yesterday I was at the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco. Karen and I went to check out the current exhibits. Karen and I both live nowhere and travel much, she more than I. It is pretty remarkable how often we get to spend a few days together.
The exhibition of Intimate Impressionism from the National Gallery was most lovely. It was kind of stunning to realize that the paintings (many from the late 1880's to the early 1900s) were revolutionary and scandalous. From my perspective, they are so sweet and innocent and pretty and balanced. It is also a little crazy to think of California at the time this art was being created. The Indian genocides and the buffalo genocides were over. The gold rush was over and the San Francisco earthquake hadn't happened yet. New new new.
In Europe where these painters lived, the thrust was to topple the domination of the accepted norms in art. It was revolutionary to paint from 'real' life instead of painting a Greek myth or a scene from the Bible. It was even more revolutionary to paint people who weren't aristocracy. Unheard of. And plein air painters, give me a break, what did they think they were doing? And a plein air painter who conveyed a feeling through his/her use of light on a haystack? Break through.
One thing that struck me was although some contemporary art has gone very far from the simplicity of real life and has been quite remarkable at showing the distress and alienation and fear and horror of the contemporary psyche, many contemporary artists are returning to plein air. Young people I talk with who are going to art school are excited about painting the natural world.
What I was was wondering is whether there is a cyclical trend happening. Then I realize it probably won't go all the way back because it is fast becoming rare for a universal familiarity with the classics to exist. I am happy to enjoy plein air paintings whether in museums or new works.
Yesterday I had no tolerance for the Old Masters. I am in a California kind of mood. I like the pastels and the turquoise and bright pinks that reflect the flowers that are everywhere in Marin in the summer.
The exhibition of Intimate Impressionism from the National Gallery was most lovely. It was kind of stunning to realize that the paintings (many from the late 1880's to the early 1900s) were revolutionary and scandalous. From my perspective, they are so sweet and innocent and pretty and balanced. It is also a little crazy to think of California at the time this art was being created. The Indian genocides and the buffalo genocides were over. The gold rush was over and the San Francisco earthquake hadn't happened yet. New new new.
In Europe where these painters lived, the thrust was to topple the domination of the accepted norms in art. It was revolutionary to paint from 'real' life instead of painting a Greek myth or a scene from the Bible. It was even more revolutionary to paint people who weren't aristocracy. Unheard of. And plein air painters, give me a break, what did they think they were doing? And a plein air painter who conveyed a feeling through his/her use of light on a haystack? Break through.
One thing that struck me was although some contemporary art has gone very far from the simplicity of real life and has been quite remarkable at showing the distress and alienation and fear and horror of the contemporary psyche, many contemporary artists are returning to plein air. Young people I talk with who are going to art school are excited about painting the natural world.
What I was was wondering is whether there is a cyclical trend happening. Then I realize it probably won't go all the way back because it is fast becoming rare for a universal familiarity with the classics to exist. I am happy to enjoy plein air paintings whether in museums or new works.
Yesterday I had no tolerance for the Old Masters. I am in a California kind of mood. I like the pastels and the turquoise and bright pinks that reflect the flowers that are everywhere in Marin in the summer.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Does Trying to Avoid Suffering Really Cause More Suffering?
There are, naturally, no absolutes. But, today I thought of something that happened to me recently. This past spring when I was so sick with something going on in my stomach, the doc and various specialists had ruled out everything they could think of. I had had every test they could think of and nothing had shown up. I still had such pain that it woke me up in the night and kept me from eating much of the day. One nice specialist after looking at all my test results offered OXY. He said it would help with the pain. I looked at him like he was crazy and declined.
The thing is that I have an addictive personality. I have had multiple and concurrent addictions most of my life. I smoked, ate chocolate and read murder mysteries at the same time for hours daily while those were my 'problem'. keeping secret stashes hidden in case of emergencies. So, having watched friends suffer from narcotics addictions, from having read the statistics about OXY addiction and how swift and how devastating it is, from knowing the suffering involved in getting clean, I declined the drugs offer.
This offer for the prescription came after a five minute office visit. I was suffering. I was hoping for some relief, but I was hoping for the relief of finding out what was wrong with me and treating it, not from taking very strong narcotics. I am pretty certain that I would have been trading up on the suffering ladder by making that decision.
I am sure you have a lot of examples in your life. have sometimes caused myself great mental agony by avoiding a confrontation or a decision that once made turned out to be nothing, nothing at all. Yet by avoiding dealing with the issue, I had carried around the backbreaking burden of "what ifs".
I was thinking of this today in larger terms, such as the Israel and Palestine problem .One day there will have to be a solution. Finding a workable solution will take great courage and selflessness on the part of the leaders. It will make daily life much more safe and comfortable for millions of people. It will return integrity to both sides. Postponing the inevitable is taking a tremendous toll on millions of people. Avoiding the suffering or hurt of making compromises and making a sane policy is increasing the suffering that the current failed policy is causing minute by minute and murder by murder. Pulling the thorn out from the bottom of my foot hurts, but not as badly as leaving it in a letting it get infected and making my whole body sick would.
When I extoll myself to "Carpe Diem", I usually am thinking about doing cool things like riding an elephant. I am thinking today that it would be of great practical value to "Carpe Diem" for things that are hard or painful and save further increased suffering in the future. "Take the bull by the horns" and all that.
This, of course, leads to the contemplation of what actually does motivate us. What finally did cause the tipping point in the Irish situation? What will make the Israelis think themselves into the shoes of the Palestinians and stop killing kids on beaches? Why do we often have to wait to hit bottom before we change? I don't know. I do know that as I get older, I notice that dealing with tough shit right now is often easier than waiting for it to get worse.
The thing is that I have an addictive personality. I have had multiple and concurrent addictions most of my life. I smoked, ate chocolate and read murder mysteries at the same time for hours daily while those were my 'problem'. keeping secret stashes hidden in case of emergencies. So, having watched friends suffer from narcotics addictions, from having read the statistics about OXY addiction and how swift and how devastating it is, from knowing the suffering involved in getting clean, I declined the drugs offer.
This offer for the prescription came after a five minute office visit. I was suffering. I was hoping for some relief, but I was hoping for the relief of finding out what was wrong with me and treating it, not from taking very strong narcotics. I am pretty certain that I would have been trading up on the suffering ladder by making that decision.
I am sure you have a lot of examples in your life. have sometimes caused myself great mental agony by avoiding a confrontation or a decision that once made turned out to be nothing, nothing at all. Yet by avoiding dealing with the issue, I had carried around the backbreaking burden of "what ifs".
I was thinking of this today in larger terms, such as the Israel and Palestine problem .One day there will have to be a solution. Finding a workable solution will take great courage and selflessness on the part of the leaders. It will make daily life much more safe and comfortable for millions of people. It will return integrity to both sides. Postponing the inevitable is taking a tremendous toll on millions of people. Avoiding the suffering or hurt of making compromises and making a sane policy is increasing the suffering that the current failed policy is causing minute by minute and murder by murder. Pulling the thorn out from the bottom of my foot hurts, but not as badly as leaving it in a letting it get infected and making my whole body sick would.
When I extoll myself to "Carpe Diem", I usually am thinking about doing cool things like riding an elephant. I am thinking today that it would be of great practical value to "Carpe Diem" for things that are hard or painful and save further increased suffering in the future. "Take the bull by the horns" and all that.
This, of course, leads to the contemplation of what actually does motivate us. What finally did cause the tipping point in the Irish situation? What will make the Israelis think themselves into the shoes of the Palestinians and stop killing kids on beaches? Why do we often have to wait to hit bottom before we change? I don't know. I do know that as I get older, I notice that dealing with tough shit right now is often easier than waiting for it to get worse.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Your terrible childhood.
I recently went to a Buddhist workshop on compassion and I more recently went to a group talking about letting go. In both groups, the older people spoke about the memory that one of the awful things about their childhood was that it was uptight. Their parents never talked about what was going on. They were seriously worried and intimidated about what the neighbors might think. The handicapped were warehoused out of sight. You always put up a good front. Any aberration was swept under the rug. Life was often a lie, and nothing outside of Leave it to Beaver happy family was tolerated. Many of the speakers were resentful about this.
Then, the 35-45 year olds had a very different complaint. Their hippie parents, or their rock band parents, or their damaged by fighting in Vietnam parents, let it all hang out. They allowed drugs and sex and rock and roll to pervade the home. There were no boundaries. They stayed up at night until they fell asleep under the table. They moved all the time. They had to parent the parents. You didn't judge or condemn anything lest you be called uptight.
Everyone seemed to have gotten a raw deal. But, all the people in these groups were working on letting go and having compassion and moving on into wholeness. These are great big steps/lessons that we all have to learn at some point in our lives. No bad can come from being more compassionate of ourselves or others. Often people don't learn to let go until they are dying. It is much brighter do this when you have more time to practice it. These lessons, in my experience, often need to be practiced over and over. You have to be a Bodhisattva to conquer all of life's suffering.
But, several thoughts came to me. One is that we get exactly what we need in this life. This brings us back to Karma. I chose the parents to whom I would incarnate. They presented me with exactly the challenges I needed for this incarnation. My experiences with them brought me to exactly this moment of possibility in this life and I am in this moment in a beautiful, safe place surrounded by compassionate people sharing my story. Pretty cool.
What I came away with was a jumble of thoughts. The first one, and it is very loud, is that most parents were doing their best with what they had and the mega and minor circumstances they were in. Another thought is that with a certain mind set, nothing is ever enough. There is no objective measure of what enough love is or what enough money looks like, or what enough nurturing is. That is in our heads. So, the thing to change is our mind. "I have enough" becomes a most fruitful mantra.
Then, the 35-45 year olds had a very different complaint. Their hippie parents, or their rock band parents, or their damaged by fighting in Vietnam parents, let it all hang out. They allowed drugs and sex and rock and roll to pervade the home. There were no boundaries. They stayed up at night until they fell asleep under the table. They moved all the time. They had to parent the parents. You didn't judge or condemn anything lest you be called uptight.
Everyone seemed to have gotten a raw deal. But, all the people in these groups were working on letting go and having compassion and moving on into wholeness. These are great big steps/lessons that we all have to learn at some point in our lives. No bad can come from being more compassionate of ourselves or others. Often people don't learn to let go until they are dying. It is much brighter do this when you have more time to practice it. These lessons, in my experience, often need to be practiced over and over. You have to be a Bodhisattva to conquer all of life's suffering.
But, several thoughts came to me. One is that we get exactly what we need in this life. This brings us back to Karma. I chose the parents to whom I would incarnate. They presented me with exactly the challenges I needed for this incarnation. My experiences with them brought me to exactly this moment of possibility in this life and I am in this moment in a beautiful, safe place surrounded by compassionate people sharing my story. Pretty cool.
What I came away with was a jumble of thoughts. The first one, and it is very loud, is that most parents were doing their best with what they had and the mega and minor circumstances they were in. Another thought is that with a certain mind set, nothing is ever enough. There is no objective measure of what enough love is or what enough money looks like, or what enough nurturing is. That is in our heads. So, the thing to change is our mind. "I have enough" becomes a most fruitful mantra.
Friday, July 11, 2014
I have to get a plan.
How am I going to decide where I want to live? No joke. I have no idea where I want to live. In part this is because as soon as I land somewhere and develop my little routine...coffee, swim or walk, good book exchange, some spiritual practice and lovely nature, I am at home. And as soon as I am fully at home, I start to think about where I might go next. I have talked about this aspect of my twisted unnatural personality before, but now it is becoming a more pressing problem because I have hit a wall a few times with my re-entry from nomadism.
I have a lot of amnesia and a good measure of avoidance going for me. An example of this is that I am day dreaming about where to go to follow the sun next winter. What I am forgetting is that when I came back to the US last winter, I was sick and needed help and had nothing set up. It is hard to set things up when you are already diminished. But, now that all seems so far in the past that I am thinking that I can wait a few more years before I make a decision.
This, of course, puts an excessive strain on those people who care for me. Firstly, because they care about my well being. Secondly because they would have to come up with solutions or help when and if I can't do it myself. But, doesn't that often happen in one way or another in so many eventualities? What if I get Alzheimer disease? Same problem. What if I break my back? What if the spot on my lung is "C"?
I have recently watched some of the best planners I have ever known come up against the need to depend on others. I am not saying that I will not make a decision. I am not saying that I will not make a plan. What I am saying is that I am really skillful at not doing anything and I won't have a lot of faith in any notion of permanence when I do. I am working diligently on my self made Buddhist program of "Do Nothing, Be Nobody." and this need interferes with it.
One thing I have been enamored with is the idea of building a very small house in some city. That idea gets me excited and then makes me tired. I have an old idea of making something by myself, that is carving the door, hand painting the tiles, welding the metal, going insanely green, but then I realize that that might be an unfulfilled idea from long ago hippie days. I am just not that interested in things to give them so much energy. Part of me could see me growing older in a totally zen scene with one bowl, one spoon, one pillow that kind of scene and at the same time I like the idea of great down comforters, deep soft couches, silky smooth fabrics, great hot baths. I am confused.
My only solution is to put it out to the universe and stay awake to what comes up the clearest. This has worked in the past and I don't see why it should stop working now. I do feel guided. I am leading the life I wish for. That's a good thing.
I have a lot of amnesia and a good measure of avoidance going for me. An example of this is that I am day dreaming about where to go to follow the sun next winter. What I am forgetting is that when I came back to the US last winter, I was sick and needed help and had nothing set up. It is hard to set things up when you are already diminished. But, now that all seems so far in the past that I am thinking that I can wait a few more years before I make a decision.
This, of course, puts an excessive strain on those people who care for me. Firstly, because they care about my well being. Secondly because they would have to come up with solutions or help when and if I can't do it myself. But, doesn't that often happen in one way or another in so many eventualities? What if I get Alzheimer disease? Same problem. What if I break my back? What if the spot on my lung is "C"?
I have recently watched some of the best planners I have ever known come up against the need to depend on others. I am not saying that I will not make a decision. I am not saying that I will not make a plan. What I am saying is that I am really skillful at not doing anything and I won't have a lot of faith in any notion of permanence when I do. I am working diligently on my self made Buddhist program of "Do Nothing, Be Nobody." and this need interferes with it.
One thing I have been enamored with is the idea of building a very small house in some city. That idea gets me excited and then makes me tired. I have an old idea of making something by myself, that is carving the door, hand painting the tiles, welding the metal, going insanely green, but then I realize that that might be an unfulfilled idea from long ago hippie days. I am just not that interested in things to give them so much energy. Part of me could see me growing older in a totally zen scene with one bowl, one spoon, one pillow that kind of scene and at the same time I like the idea of great down comforters, deep soft couches, silky smooth fabrics, great hot baths. I am confused.
My only solution is to put it out to the universe and stay awake to what comes up the clearest. This has worked in the past and I don't see why it should stop working now. I do feel guided. I am leading the life I wish for. That's a good thing.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
We Need to Think About the End Game. What do we want the results of our actions to be?
I think this is a very simple and clear article. I think that if we could apply this kind of thinking to other aspects of our lives, we would make the world a better place. Did we think about the end game when we invaded and occupied Iraq? That country was a secular state and is fast becoming a true Islamic caliphate. It seems like we spent billions of dollars ans caused untold suffering to create our worst nightmare.
In the world of child rearing, is the same thing happening? Almost every parent will say the same thing when asked what they want for their child. "I want him/her to be healthy, happy, well-adjusted, doing something worthwhile in life." Something like that, in any case. This writer points out that we might be sabotaging the kids. I have to think that our intentions are mostly righteous, so let us think about whether our actions will get us what we hope.
5 Reasons Modern-Day Parenting Is in Crisis, According to a British Nanny
Posted:
Updated:
Print Article
1. A fear of our children.
I have what I think of as "the sippy cup test," wherein I will observe a parent getting her toddler a cup of milk in the morning. If the child says, "I want the pink sippy cup, not the blue!" yet the mum has already poured the milk into the blue sippy cup, I watch carefully to see how the parent reacts. More often than not, the mum's face whitens and she rushes to get the preferred sippy cup before the child has a tantrum. Fail! What are you afraid of, mum? Who is in charge here? Let her have a tantrum, and remove yourself so you don't have to hear it. But for goodness' sake, don't make extra work for yourself just to please her -- and even more importantly, think about the lesson it teaches if you give her what she wants because she's thrown a fit.
2. A lowered bar.
When children misbehave, whether it's by way of public outburst or private surliness, parents are apt to shrug their shoulders as if to say, "That's just the way it is with kids." I assure you, it doesn't have to be. Children are capable of much more than parents typically expect from them, whether it's in the form of proper manners, respect for elders, chores, generosity or self-control. You don't think a child can sit through dinner at a restaurant? Rubbish. You don't think a child can clear the table without being asked? Rubbish again! The only reason they don't behave is because you haven't shown them how and you haven't expected it! It's that simple. Raise the bar and your child shall rise to the occasion.
3. We've lost the village.
It used to be that bus drivers, teachers, shopkeepers and other parents had carte blanche to correct an unruly child. They would act as the mum and dad's eyes and ears when their children were out of sight, and everyone worked towards the same shared interest: raising proper boys and girls. This village was one of support. Now, when someone who is not the child's parent dares to correct him, the mum and dad get upset. They want their child to appear perfect, and so they often don't accept teachers' and others' reports that he is not. They'll storm in and have a go at a teacher rather than discipline their child for acting out in class. They feel the need to project a perfect picture to the world and unfortunately, their insecurity is reinforced because many parents do judge one another. If a child is having a tantrum, all eyes turn on the mum disapprovingly. Instead she should be supported, because chances are the tantrum occurred because she's not giving in to one of her child's demands. Those observers should instead be saying, "Hey, good work -- I know setting limits is hard."
4. A reliance on shortcuts.
I think it's wonderful that parents have all sorts of electronics to help them through airline flights and long waits at the doctor's office. It's equally fabulous that we can order our groceries online for delivery, and heat up healthy-ish food at the touch of a button on the microwave. Parents are busier than ever, and I'm all for taking the easy way when you need it. But shortcuts can be a slippery slope. When you see how wonderful it is that Caillou can entertain your child on a flight, don't be tempted to put it on when you are at a restaurant. Children must still learn patience. They must still learn to entertain themselves. They must still learn that not all food comes out steaming hot and ready in three minutes or less, and ideally they will also learn to help prepare it. Babies must learn to self-soothe instead of sitting in a vibrating chair each time they're fussy. Toddlers need to pick themselves up when they fall down instead of just raising their arms to mum and dad. Show children that shortcuts can be helpful, but that there is great satisfaction in doing things the slow way too.
5. Parents put their children's needs ahead of their own.
Naturally, parents are wired to take care of their children first, and this is a good thing for evolution! I am an advocate of adhering to a schedule that suits your child's needs, and of practices like feeding and clothing your children first. But parents today have taken it too far, completely subsuming their own needs and mental health for the sake of their children. So often I see mums get up from bed again and again to fulfill the whims of their child. Or dads drop everything to run across the zoo to get their daughter a drink because she's thirsty. There is nothing wrong with not going to your child when she wants yet another glass of water at night. There's nothing wrong with that dad at the zoo saying, "Absolutely you can have something to drink, but you must wait until we pass the next drinking fountain." There is nothing wrong with using the word "No" on occasion, nothing wrong with asking your child to entertain herself for a few minutes because mummy would like to use the toilet in private or flick through a magazine for that matter.
I fear that if we don't start to correct these five grave parenting mistakes, and soon, the children we are raising will grow up to be entitled, selfish, impatient and rude adults. It won't be their fault -- it will be ours. We never taught them any differently, we never expected any more of them. We never wanted them to feel any discomfort, and so when they inevitably do, they are woefully unprepared for it. So please, parents and caregivers from London to Los Angeles, and all over the world, ask more. Expect more. Share your struggles. Give less. And let's straighten these children out, together, and prepare them for what they need to be successful in the real world and not the sheltered one we've made for them.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Life is Suffering, Buddhism 101
I am living in sunny Marin County, CA. I live across the street from a wonderful park. The kid's playground is closest to our place. I love waking up to the sounds of the birds talking and singing. I love the sounds of the children in the playground.
I have noticed, however, that along with the joyful shrieks and laughter there is almost an equal amount of crying. It is not disturbing, the crying. It stops as soon as the mom or dad or babysitter comes and gives a bit of comfort or a distraction. But it is interesting. Even as kids, we get blow back from seeking fun. If we eat too many cookies, we get a stomach ache. If we climb too high, we can have a fall. Years ago, when we lived in Forest Row, Sussex, England, I was shocked at the public playgrounds. The ground was cement. The play structures were heavy metal battering rams. The swings were easily maneuvered to go over the top.
I took it to be a sign that the British believed in toughening up the kids, the stiff upper lip and all that. Forty years later, the playgrounds here in Cali have soft stuff covering the ground, all the safety features that any town can think of and the kids still manage to take good tumbles and get bonked with great regularity. I really have no opinion whether one way is better than the other, except the memory of guiding my 2 year old daughter away from the equipment that looked actually deadly. When we were kids, we had no playground and lived in the woods and we still managed to get broken arms and lots of cuts and bruises. I still have a few tiny pebbles in my knee from taking a great tumble off my bike. Cleaning the cut was much more painful than getting it so I told my mother that I got all the gravel out. Oh well.
I think that it is our job as parents and teachers and care takers to protect the children as much as we can. This is logical and human. Who wouldn't? But, when we can't, what is that? When we can't as adults avoid pain, when our quest for pleasure bites us in the ass, what is happening?
Oh ya, there is that karma thing. And the thought that suffering is our great opportunity to grow. It is our path to enlightenment. It is not about keeping a still upper lip. It is not about ignoring or deluding ourselves about what is going on. How many times have you heard about a person becoming transfigured in the last stages of cancer? "She taught all of us so much." I've heard it a lot. Don't get me wrong. I am not a fan of pain and misery, but rather, I am trying to sort things out.
Yesterday I went to a retreat at a Vipassana center, Spirit Rock. The subject of the day was Compassion. The teachings were brilliant, as always. And of the over 50 people who spent the day together, from many countries, many economic levels, many ages, we all had the same intention. We wanted to be more powerfully, actively compassionate.
One thing we quickly learned was that practicing in little ways prepares us for the big moments. We also 'got' it that if we are not compassionate towards ourselves, we had little chance of being that way toward others. One of the little exercises we did was partner up and for five minutes our partner asked us over and over "What do you really admire about yourself?" Damn, it was hard. I bet not one person said "My beauty." We are hardwired to being critical. This seemed to be the same for very high achieving people who spent their lives being told they were great, (they don't really think they measure up.) as well as for people who had been beaten down by other people telling them that they were losers. Amazing, really.
There was too much going on to recap all the aha! moments. But on this subject of suffering and pain, the mindfulness teachings are amazing. When we examine what it is that blocks our natural instincts for compassion for ourselves and others, the answers are right there in us. Ask yourself this question and sit with it for a moment. I am going to do so.
The Four Noble Truths (Sanskrit: catvāri āryasatyāni; Pali: cattāri ariyasaccāni) are regarded as the central doctrine of the Buddhist tradition, and are said to provide a conceptual framework for all of Buddhist thought. These four truths explain the nature of dukkha (Pali; commonly translated as "suffering", "anxiety", "unsatisfactoriness"[a]), its causes, its cessation, and the path leading to its cessation.
The four noble truths are:[b]
The second noble truth is that the origin of dukkha can be known. Within the context of the four noble truths, the origin of dukkha is commonly explained as craving or thirst (Pali: tanha) conditioned by ignorance (Pali: avijja). On a deeper level, the root cause of dukkha is identified as ignorance (avijja) of the true nature of things. The third noble truth is that the complete cessation of dukkha is possible, and the fourth noble truth identifies a path to this cessation.
According to the Buddhist tradition, the Buddha first taught the four noble truths in the very first teaching he gave after he attained enlightenment, as recorded in The Discourse That Sets Turning the Wheel of Truth (Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta), and he further clarified their meaning in many subsequent teachings.[e]
I have noticed, however, that along with the joyful shrieks and laughter there is almost an equal amount of crying. It is not disturbing, the crying. It stops as soon as the mom or dad or babysitter comes and gives a bit of comfort or a distraction. But it is interesting. Even as kids, we get blow back from seeking fun. If we eat too many cookies, we get a stomach ache. If we climb too high, we can have a fall. Years ago, when we lived in Forest Row, Sussex, England, I was shocked at the public playgrounds. The ground was cement. The play structures were heavy metal battering rams. The swings were easily maneuvered to go over the top.
I took it to be a sign that the British believed in toughening up the kids, the stiff upper lip and all that. Forty years later, the playgrounds here in Cali have soft stuff covering the ground, all the safety features that any town can think of and the kids still manage to take good tumbles and get bonked with great regularity. I really have no opinion whether one way is better than the other, except the memory of guiding my 2 year old daughter away from the equipment that looked actually deadly. When we were kids, we had no playground and lived in the woods and we still managed to get broken arms and lots of cuts and bruises. I still have a few tiny pebbles in my knee from taking a great tumble off my bike. Cleaning the cut was much more painful than getting it so I told my mother that I got all the gravel out. Oh well.
I think that it is our job as parents and teachers and care takers to protect the children as much as we can. This is logical and human. Who wouldn't? But, when we can't, what is that? When we can't as adults avoid pain, when our quest for pleasure bites us in the ass, what is happening?
Oh ya, there is that karma thing. And the thought that suffering is our great opportunity to grow. It is our path to enlightenment. It is not about keeping a still upper lip. It is not about ignoring or deluding ourselves about what is going on. How many times have you heard about a person becoming transfigured in the last stages of cancer? "She taught all of us so much." I've heard it a lot. Don't get me wrong. I am not a fan of pain and misery, but rather, I am trying to sort things out.
Yesterday I went to a retreat at a Vipassana center, Spirit Rock. The subject of the day was Compassion. The teachings were brilliant, as always. And of the over 50 people who spent the day together, from many countries, many economic levels, many ages, we all had the same intention. We wanted to be more powerfully, actively compassionate.
One thing we quickly learned was that practicing in little ways prepares us for the big moments. We also 'got' it that if we are not compassionate towards ourselves, we had little chance of being that way toward others. One of the little exercises we did was partner up and for five minutes our partner asked us over and over "What do you really admire about yourself?" Damn, it was hard. I bet not one person said "My beauty." We are hardwired to being critical. This seemed to be the same for very high achieving people who spent their lives being told they were great, (they don't really think they measure up.) as well as for people who had been beaten down by other people telling them that they were losers. Amazing, really.
There was too much going on to recap all the aha! moments. But on this subject of suffering and pain, the mindfulness teachings are amazing. When we examine what it is that blocks our natural instincts for compassion for ourselves and others, the answers are right there in us. Ask yourself this question and sit with it for a moment. I am going to do so.
The Four Noble Truths (Sanskrit: catvāri āryasatyāni; Pali: cattāri ariyasaccāni) are regarded as the central doctrine of the Buddhist tradition, and are said to provide a conceptual framework for all of Buddhist thought. These four truths explain the nature of dukkha (Pali; commonly translated as "suffering", "anxiety", "unsatisfactoriness"[a]), its causes, its cessation, and the path leading to its cessation.
The four noble truths are:[b]
- The truth of dukkha (suffering, anxiety, unsatisfactoriness[a])
- The truth of the origin of dukkha
- The truth of the cessation of dukkha
- The truth of the path leading to the cessation of dukkha
- The obvious physical and mental suffering associated with birth, growing old, illness and dying.
- The anxiety or stress of trying to hold on to things that are constantly changing.
- A basic unsatisfactoriness pervading all forms of existence, due to the fact that all forms of life are changing, impermanent and without any inner core or substance. On this level, the term indicates a lack of satisfaction, a sense that things never measure up to our expectations or standards.
The second noble truth is that the origin of dukkha can be known. Within the context of the four noble truths, the origin of dukkha is commonly explained as craving or thirst (Pali: tanha) conditioned by ignorance (Pali: avijja). On a deeper level, the root cause of dukkha is identified as ignorance (avijja) of the true nature of things. The third noble truth is that the complete cessation of dukkha is possible, and the fourth noble truth identifies a path to this cessation.
According to the Buddhist tradition, the Buddha first taught the four noble truths in the very first teaching he gave after he attained enlightenment, as recorded in The Discourse That Sets Turning the Wheel of Truth (Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta), and he further clarified their meaning in many subsequent teachings.[e]
Friday, July 4, 2014
We Tell Childen to "Use Your Words" but We Seem to Think Guns Are Better
OK, so Target decided to ask its customers not to carry loaded guns into its stores. Ostensibly, the reason was not because 400,00 people signed a petition in a very short time. It was because one of the idiot activists left behind (forgot?) a loaded gun in the toy section resting on a toy box on the floor.
Can any sane person not shudder and almost lose her lunch at the thought of what could have happened in that store? I can't even go there. Guns are made to kill. What other purpose could they possibly have? I have come to think that only fearful, cowardly people rely on guns. Have you seen the artillery some men take into the woods to hunt (and kill dear?) Have you heard to boasting some men do about their ability to hit targets? or have bigger, better guns stashed in cabinets around their houses?
The first time I came from Boston to Oregon in 1964 was the first time I saw a real gun in my life. The style then was for intrepid hunters to drive around in pick up trucks with gun racks in the back. I thought it was pretty strange. Were they going to shoot deer in the grocery parking lot? Looking back, that was a cake walk compared to what you can see today in the USA. Ugly, stupid, cowardly, hateful stuff in the name of a Christian religion. This is fucked up.
I no longer blame TV or Jesus or the Second Amendment for this epidemic. I blame cowardly impotent ignorant men who are taken in by the glamor of being the tough guy while hiding behind locked doors and camouflage outfits. These are not conciliatory words. These are the words of a good Jew obeying the Ten Commandments, a good Christian heading Christ's words the turn the other cheek and do unto others. These are the words of a woman born in WW11 where 18,000,000 or some such number of people died. These are the words of a woman who is asked in every country she visits what is wrong in the USA that we murder each other all the time. No one anywhere can figure out how we have gotten so perverted and violent.
We have merged Stone Age mentality with 21st Century technology and become the murderers that we fear. Even the NRA distanced itself from the Target gun activists. You tell enough powerless people that they can take control and you get some deranged person leaving a loaded gun in the toy department.Guns are made to kill. People who have guns have them so they are ready to kill when they decide to. Our Presidents now have very public "kill lists". People cheer when we murder Bin Laden. Things have gone wrong here. This is not freedom and human rights. This is anarchy and today's version of the Wild West and Manifest Destiny. I am very confused by this all. Toy departments should be magical imaginative places where children can dream.
We need people of courage. We need Gandhi and the Salt Protest. We need Mother Theresa collecting children from the hospital in Beirut. We need courage.
Can any sane person not shudder and almost lose her lunch at the thought of what could have happened in that store? I can't even go there. Guns are made to kill. What other purpose could they possibly have? I have come to think that only fearful, cowardly people rely on guns. Have you seen the artillery some men take into the woods to hunt (and kill dear?) Have you heard to boasting some men do about their ability to hit targets? or have bigger, better guns stashed in cabinets around their houses?
The first time I came from Boston to Oregon in 1964 was the first time I saw a real gun in my life. The style then was for intrepid hunters to drive around in pick up trucks with gun racks in the back. I thought it was pretty strange. Were they going to shoot deer in the grocery parking lot? Looking back, that was a cake walk compared to what you can see today in the USA. Ugly, stupid, cowardly, hateful stuff in the name of a Christian religion. This is fucked up.
I no longer blame TV or Jesus or the Second Amendment for this epidemic. I blame cowardly impotent ignorant men who are taken in by the glamor of being the tough guy while hiding behind locked doors and camouflage outfits. These are not conciliatory words. These are the words of a good Jew obeying the Ten Commandments, a good Christian heading Christ's words the turn the other cheek and do unto others. These are the words of a woman born in WW11 where 18,000,000 or some such number of people died. These are the words of a woman who is asked in every country she visits what is wrong in the USA that we murder each other all the time. No one anywhere can figure out how we have gotten so perverted and violent.
We have merged Stone Age mentality with 21st Century technology and become the murderers that we fear. Even the NRA distanced itself from the Target gun activists. You tell enough powerless people that they can take control and you get some deranged person leaving a loaded gun in the toy department.Guns are made to kill. People who have guns have them so they are ready to kill when they decide to. Our Presidents now have very public "kill lists". People cheer when we murder Bin Laden. Things have gone wrong here. This is not freedom and human rights. This is anarchy and today's version of the Wild West and Manifest Destiny. I am very confused by this all. Toy departments should be magical imaginative places where children can dream.
We need people of courage. We need Gandhi and the Salt Protest. We need Mother Theresa collecting children from the hospital in Beirut. We need courage.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Why I Am Not Perfect - Because I Am Human.
I don't mean to shatter your illusions about me. By the same token, the reason I am perfect is the same - because I am human. One of those Zen things. I have had so much in this life. I am beautiful, smart, well fed, and loved. I have had every chance imaginable to perfect myself. I have had education, great teachers, amazing gurus, lessons in everything I have wanted. (except flying but that is my fault) This week alone I have worshiped with the lovely Father Lawrence in Larkspur, CA, USA. I have meditated with and heard wisdom from Jack Kornfield at Spirit Rock. I have l have heard a podcast of Lama Marut. I have been in a beautiful support group. This is just the tip of the ice burg. All my life I have been blessed with magic encounters and opportunities.
I have met the Dalai Lama, heard live Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, and many great saints of my lifetime. I have studied Anthroposophy under some wonderful teachers, John Gardner, Francis Edmunds, Richard Walton. I have had time to meditate. I have had time to go to Mass and retreats and visit Monte Alban, Chartres Cathedral, the Camino, Jerusalem, the Vatican, Palenque, Copan, Tikal, Angkor Wat, Wats to numerous to name in Thailand and I am not anywhere approaching levitated yet. I am an ordinary bumbling fallible mortal warts and all.
I still have a temper. I still can really lack compassion. I still get so frazzled that I panic. I think these fabulous opportunities that I have been given were the Good Gods recognizing that I was, in spite of all signs to the contrary, a little behind and in need of more help than most. Yup. I got the 'special' treatment because I have 'special' needs.
But then in Buddhism and in 12 Step literature and in the Catholic tradition we are taught to make love to our faults and challenges and short comings and weaknesses. They are our greatest teachers. If you never meet a horrible shitty person who shakes you to the core, then you never had a chance to test your mettle or develop compassion. If you never loose your shit, if you never sin, if you are perfect and tranquil and radiantly happy, then why are you here in this incarnation at all? So, my challenge is to accept myself and my opportunities to improve my happiness and that of others. One day I do this, the next day I try. The next I cry "wee wee wee all the way home."
I am trying to be a little less self-critical when I am just human, but also I am trying not to make excuses for things I can change and don't. Alice, my daughter, reminded me that after all my big talk in a blog over a year ago about ringing out the sponge after I do dishes, about letting go of my lazy habits, I am worse than ever in that department. I am grateful that she has a good memory and can nail me when I am full of it.
I have met the Dalai Lama, heard live Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, and many great saints of my lifetime. I have studied Anthroposophy under some wonderful teachers, John Gardner, Francis Edmunds, Richard Walton. I have had time to meditate. I have had time to go to Mass and retreats and visit Monte Alban, Chartres Cathedral, the Camino, Jerusalem, the Vatican, Palenque, Copan, Tikal, Angkor Wat, Wats to numerous to name in Thailand and I am not anywhere approaching levitated yet. I am an ordinary bumbling fallible mortal warts and all.
I still have a temper. I still can really lack compassion. I still get so frazzled that I panic. I think these fabulous opportunities that I have been given were the Good Gods recognizing that I was, in spite of all signs to the contrary, a little behind and in need of more help than most. Yup. I got the 'special' treatment because I have 'special' needs.
But then in Buddhism and in 12 Step literature and in the Catholic tradition we are taught to make love to our faults and challenges and short comings and weaknesses. They are our greatest teachers. If you never meet a horrible shitty person who shakes you to the core, then you never had a chance to test your mettle or develop compassion. If you never loose your shit, if you never sin, if you are perfect and tranquil and radiantly happy, then why are you here in this incarnation at all? So, my challenge is to accept myself and my opportunities to improve my happiness and that of others. One day I do this, the next day I try. The next I cry "wee wee wee all the way home."
I am trying to be a little less self-critical when I am just human, but also I am trying not to make excuses for things I can change and don't. Alice, my daughter, reminded me that after all my big talk in a blog over a year ago about ringing out the sponge after I do dishes, about letting go of my lazy habits, I am worse than ever in that department. I am grateful that she has a good memory and can nail me when I am full of it.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Don't Be an Idiot! Take this Advice Now!
Don't use texting for emotional communications. Don't. Don't talk about feelings in text messages. Don't.
Firstly, text messages don't just disappear. You might delete them, but they are still around.
Secondly, and most importantly, they will get you in trouble. I am unequivocal about this advice.
As I have said before, I am a bit of a troglodyte. But in this instance, that is not relevant. For the past few years, I have seen example after example of texting emotions (good or bad, happy or sad) causing misunderstandings, embarrassment, and dissension. I mean it. Texting is an excellent medium for saying, "I am going to be 10 minutes late", or "I forgot my gym shorts, can you drop them off on your way to work.", or "Meet me in Tahrir Square tomorrow to overthrow the government." Simple, clear messages. Cold info.
But here is a scenario I have witnessed over and over: Someone tells me that they met a nice man at a party. They hung out a while. There was a spark. Three or four days later, I hear from the someone and they are distressed that they haven't gotten much encouragement from the guy. It is depressing.She feels bad. What could be wrong? I ask whether she texted him. Yes she did. Did he answer. Not really. And not right away. What might she have said in her texts? "I told him how much fun it was to meet him." "I told him it made me feel good." "I asked what he felt." "I asked him why he wasn't texting me back." "I told him that I was having doubts about my initial feelings because he wasn't responding."
Shit man, get a grip. This is harassment and would end anything including true love in its tracks. So, picture the other side. The guy had fun. He has a job or a career. He can't chew gum and walk at the same time (most men a terrible multitaskers) and he might have hoped to see you again and he might have had a lovely time too, but he wasn't going to think about it for a few days and now these texts come, turning a potential thing into BFF chatter. He doesn't give a hoot about your day at work or your hair cut or that you need new tires. These things mostly aren't interesting in any case, but certainly not as news flashes about someone he hardly knows interrupting his life.
This is one example from a million. Texting gives us a chance to say dumb things really fast in an offhand way. Can it come as any surprise that people get into trouble with it? Impulses might be healthy or destructive but waiting until you take time to sort out what is appropriate, what someone might want to read while doing their taxes or going to the bathroom or waiting for a job interview, this might bring you much closer to the intended result.
When someone over texts me, not only do I get irritated about the interruptions, especially if I am doing nothing which is a fine use of my time, but I wonder whether the other person has a life. Like, if you are at work or visiting with a friend or jogging, why are you texting me? You aren't in your life. You can't be.
This sounds a bit like I am on my high horse. I don't mean to be. I am writing this because I have head from distressed people who have messed up their lives with this. I would like never to hear the long pause when I ask, "Have you been texting? A lot?"
Take a step back. Put yourself in the other person's shoes. When in doubt, don't. Amen.
Firstly, text messages don't just disappear. You might delete them, but they are still around.
Secondly, and most importantly, they will get you in trouble. I am unequivocal about this advice.
As I have said before, I am a bit of a troglodyte. But in this instance, that is not relevant. For the past few years, I have seen example after example of texting emotions (good or bad, happy or sad) causing misunderstandings, embarrassment, and dissension. I mean it. Texting is an excellent medium for saying, "I am going to be 10 minutes late", or "I forgot my gym shorts, can you drop them off on your way to work.", or "Meet me in Tahrir Square tomorrow to overthrow the government." Simple, clear messages. Cold info.
But here is a scenario I have witnessed over and over: Someone tells me that they met a nice man at a party. They hung out a while. There was a spark. Three or four days later, I hear from the someone and they are distressed that they haven't gotten much encouragement from the guy. It is depressing.She feels bad. What could be wrong? I ask whether she texted him. Yes she did. Did he answer. Not really. And not right away. What might she have said in her texts? "I told him how much fun it was to meet him." "I told him it made me feel good." "I asked what he felt." "I asked him why he wasn't texting me back." "I told him that I was having doubts about my initial feelings because he wasn't responding."
Shit man, get a grip. This is harassment and would end anything including true love in its tracks. So, picture the other side. The guy had fun. He has a job or a career. He can't chew gum and walk at the same time (most men a terrible multitaskers) and he might have hoped to see you again and he might have had a lovely time too, but he wasn't going to think about it for a few days and now these texts come, turning a potential thing into BFF chatter. He doesn't give a hoot about your day at work or your hair cut or that you need new tires. These things mostly aren't interesting in any case, but certainly not as news flashes about someone he hardly knows interrupting his life.
This is one example from a million. Texting gives us a chance to say dumb things really fast in an offhand way. Can it come as any surprise that people get into trouble with it? Impulses might be healthy or destructive but waiting until you take time to sort out what is appropriate, what someone might want to read while doing their taxes or going to the bathroom or waiting for a job interview, this might bring you much closer to the intended result.
When someone over texts me, not only do I get irritated about the interruptions, especially if I am doing nothing which is a fine use of my time, but I wonder whether the other person has a life. Like, if you are at work or visiting with a friend or jogging, why are you texting me? You aren't in your life. You can't be.
This sounds a bit like I am on my high horse. I don't mean to be. I am writing this because I have head from distressed people who have messed up their lives with this. I would like never to hear the long pause when I ask, "Have you been texting? A lot?"
Take a step back. Put yourself in the other person's shoes. When in doubt, don't. Amen.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
I can't get rid of nostalgia for the "Good Old Days".
Nostalgia has got to be a natural feeling for older people. It makes sense that this would be so. But, this combined with a feeling that things are moving very fast and maybe it is not all good, has me irritated. I get irritated with myself for not being able to see the future. Then I get anxious about being a troglodyte. I really don't like that idea of myself.
A lemonade stand is what got me going. My daughter and grand kid are working to set up a lemonade stand. They have made a beautiful sign and are strategically planning the whole endeavor. It is a nice healthy project, I think. Then the nostalgia kicks in. Then I start having these feelings about the good old days when life was more simple and this takes me on a wild trajectory that ultimately robs me of the fun in today. I have to stop this.
The first time that my brother and I made a lemonade stand was when some water lines were being put in by our country home. Normally we wouldn't have had anyone to sell to. We told Mom about our plan. She told us that whatever mess we made, we would have to clean up. Duh. She always said that. We knew that. We then started this huge project that began with finding an old board. We painted it with house paint (oil based in those days) and that involved opening the can, stirring forever, washing the brushes with turpentine, all that. Then, days later when the sign was dry, we found rocks and boards to make a table and we made ice and put the ice in a big bowl and then we had to shine glasses and find some fabric for a table cloth. We counted our savings and walked to the store to buy lemons and sugar. Getting the final approval from Mom and a final lecture from Dad about putting the lids back on paint cans correctly, we opened our business.
We knew exactly how much we had spent on our supplies. We knew exactly how much money we made. We were extremely gratified with our social interactions. It was very nice. When our customers moved on to the next block, we hung the sign in the garage with other summer memories.
Now, suburban kids would be total freaks if they approached the lemonade stand as we did. Today, they get in the SUV with Mom or the nanny and buy paper cups and a bag of ice and a poster board and lemonade and that is that.
So, why would I get in a dither about this? This is nice and sweet and fun. That is the whole point. My way was no better, just different. We wanted a lot of what kids have today. We had no idea that anything like a cell phone would ever be invented, in fact, at age seven, I had probably never talked on the phone. I certainly hadn't seen TV but we made home made walkie talkies with string and tin cans. We made stilts from those tall juice cans. Today's children will invent stuff I never dreamed of using their imaginations is ways I can't even fathom.
My task is to remember a more simple time and throw away my rose colored glasses. When I was a kid people were working very hard to forget the horrors of the Second World War and redefine normal. Now we have other challenges and we will need everything the kids can muster to meet tomorrow. I suppose that they will look back on the simple times when all you had to do was to get in the SUV and drive to a store to create the fun you wanted.
A lemonade stand is what got me going. My daughter and grand kid are working to set up a lemonade stand. They have made a beautiful sign and are strategically planning the whole endeavor. It is a nice healthy project, I think. Then the nostalgia kicks in. Then I start having these feelings about the good old days when life was more simple and this takes me on a wild trajectory that ultimately robs me of the fun in today. I have to stop this.
The first time that my brother and I made a lemonade stand was when some water lines were being put in by our country home. Normally we wouldn't have had anyone to sell to. We told Mom about our plan. She told us that whatever mess we made, we would have to clean up. Duh. She always said that. We knew that. We then started this huge project that began with finding an old board. We painted it with house paint (oil based in those days) and that involved opening the can, stirring forever, washing the brushes with turpentine, all that. Then, days later when the sign was dry, we found rocks and boards to make a table and we made ice and put the ice in a big bowl and then we had to shine glasses and find some fabric for a table cloth. We counted our savings and walked to the store to buy lemons and sugar. Getting the final approval from Mom and a final lecture from Dad about putting the lids back on paint cans correctly, we opened our business.
We knew exactly how much we had spent on our supplies. We knew exactly how much money we made. We were extremely gratified with our social interactions. It was very nice. When our customers moved on to the next block, we hung the sign in the garage with other summer memories.
Now, suburban kids would be total freaks if they approached the lemonade stand as we did. Today, they get in the SUV with Mom or the nanny and buy paper cups and a bag of ice and a poster board and lemonade and that is that.
So, why would I get in a dither about this? This is nice and sweet and fun. That is the whole point. My way was no better, just different. We wanted a lot of what kids have today. We had no idea that anything like a cell phone would ever be invented, in fact, at age seven, I had probably never talked on the phone. I certainly hadn't seen TV but we made home made walkie talkies with string and tin cans. We made stilts from those tall juice cans. Today's children will invent stuff I never dreamed of using their imaginations is ways I can't even fathom.
My task is to remember a more simple time and throw away my rose colored glasses. When I was a kid people were working very hard to forget the horrors of the Second World War and redefine normal. Now we have other challenges and we will need everything the kids can muster to meet tomorrow. I suppose that they will look back on the simple times when all you had to do was to get in the SUV and drive to a store to create the fun you wanted.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Lama Marut revisited. How to get rid of an irritating person. Thank you Guruji.
Re-re-re-visited, actually. I probably can't do justice to this, but I know it works because I have used it. As with any spiritual practice, I have to remember it in the midst of being irritated. Because it is hard to remember when things are out of control, Lama M. suggests that we make the practice using small impact situations until we get it into our routine. Then we can go to the practice in desperate moments.
I find it very sweet, in a way, that he uses the word 'irritating'. This can mean a person jiggling his knee next to you on a train or it can mean someone pointing a gun at you, and anything in between.
He speaks humorously about simply removing yourself from the situation. Using a magic escape phrase, "Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom." You can always find something to make this a true statement. Wash your hands or something. If you are stuck with this person (one reason to avoid sail boat trips with unhappy people.) you have to work a bit more.
The real gist of the practice is to look at the person attacking you or yelling at you or being mean to you and have compassion for them. You can not hold anger and compassion at the same moment. If someone is irritating you and you think about how much pain they must be in to act so horribly and how much bad karma they are creating for themselves, you get a gift of objectivity and clarity which allows you to experience them differently. They must be in so much pain to allow this behavior or these words to come from their mouths.
This switch in your mind can make a huge difference. I was in a non-violent action training many years ago at a homeless shelter in Boston. The trainer had us roll playing. The roll was that someone would verbally attack us and we had to diffuse the situation rather than taking the bait. I was paired off with a huge guy who really got into his role of attacking and intimidating me. I got frightened by his intensity and in my fright, I stood tall and looked him in the eye and said, "I love you." He reacted as if he had been hit with a knock out punch. He started to cry. He said he couldn't remember ever having those words said to him. Then I started to cry. That was so sad.
That was before I knew Lama Marut, and I take that as a gift from the gods. But there it was, in a flash. It is probably better to practice in easier situations. When some driver is acting like a real ass hole, instead of giving the finger, as is my wont, I could think, "It must be very hard to be him today." Changes everything.
I find it very sweet, in a way, that he uses the word 'irritating'. This can mean a person jiggling his knee next to you on a train or it can mean someone pointing a gun at you, and anything in between.
He speaks humorously about simply removing yourself from the situation. Using a magic escape phrase, "Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom." You can always find something to make this a true statement. Wash your hands or something. If you are stuck with this person (one reason to avoid sail boat trips with unhappy people.) you have to work a bit more.
The real gist of the practice is to look at the person attacking you or yelling at you or being mean to you and have compassion for them. You can not hold anger and compassion at the same moment. If someone is irritating you and you think about how much pain they must be in to act so horribly and how much bad karma they are creating for themselves, you get a gift of objectivity and clarity which allows you to experience them differently. They must be in so much pain to allow this behavior or these words to come from their mouths.
This switch in your mind can make a huge difference. I was in a non-violent action training many years ago at a homeless shelter in Boston. The trainer had us roll playing. The roll was that someone would verbally attack us and we had to diffuse the situation rather than taking the bait. I was paired off with a huge guy who really got into his role of attacking and intimidating me. I got frightened by his intensity and in my fright, I stood tall and looked him in the eye and said, "I love you." He reacted as if he had been hit with a knock out punch. He started to cry. He said he couldn't remember ever having those words said to him. Then I started to cry. That was so sad.
That was before I knew Lama Marut, and I take that as a gift from the gods. But there it was, in a flash. It is probably better to practice in easier situations. When some driver is acting like a real ass hole, instead of giving the finger, as is my wont, I could think, "It must be very hard to be him today." Changes everything.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
What, actually, is awesome?
Don't we all get a huge kick out of the jaw dropping, mind blowing, no shit! experience of coming across something that is awesome? This has to be such an individual thing, the trigger for these moments. It definitely has to magically catch us at the right time and the right place.
As you remember your experiences, I will tell a few of mine. I am a lucky woman in that quite a lot of things blow my mind. The people who study brain chemistry might have a good explanation for this but can they show us how the process gets rolling? I mean, it is like labor in childbirth. We know a lot about the hormones involved. We certainly know the process, but I have yet to hear anyone with a clear understanding of what actually triggers the start of the labor. Is it the alignment of the stars after all? Does science begin when spiritual science lets off? Just wondering.
What got me onto this subject today was my experience at church this morning. I have been going to a little Catholic church in Larkspur, CA. I was drawn to it because it looked a little more New England than many of the West Coast churches. Then I found the bonus of the wonderful Father Lawrence. Enough said. Today's mass was nice. It was friendly. There were tons of people especially with young families. It was mundane. That's what got me thinking about the several times in my life when going to church has been awesome.
They were pretty big events. The first time I went to what used to be called High Mass in St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. High mass when I was a kid was Gregorian chants, tons of frankincense incense, elaborate vestments , big flowers, the whole nine yards. I was struck silent. The mass at Campostella at the end of the Camino was awesome. It was not only big in every way...thousands of people, dozens of priests, all the mumbo jumbo anyone could wish for but everyone there was not only giving a huge collective exhale but I have never felt such a collective gratitude. (Must have been that on a gigantic scale when WW11 ended. I was too young to remember.) We had made it. Whatever 'it' was.
I have felt awe at a few concerts. Hearing Pablo Casals play cello, hearing Miha Pogacnik play violin, these were big experiences for me. Seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time at sunset with the setting sun's rays coming through the waves. Oh my God!
At High Mowing School on a freezing mountain top in New Hampshire, I was pregnant with my third child. Samuel Kaymen was our resident farmer. (He and his family later started Stoneyfield Yoghurt). Samuel sent someone to fetch us when a horse of his was starting labor. Watching this horse foul was unbelievably awesome to me. When I lose the ability to speak, it is a big deal. I hope many of you have a chance to see such power in your lifetime.
The mother horse paced. She went around in circles. She shuddered a few times. I thought we were in for the long haul. Not so. She calmed down and focused (no kidding!). Then she kind of groaned a few times. Then her muscles tensed. Then steam rose from her body. I mean enough to fill a steam room. She didn't move her hoofs. She pushed. Out slid this perfectly gorgeous foul fully in the caul, The steam stopped and she looked happy and normal and we were all speechless. I don't know, I have seen many women give birth, the usual dogs and cats and pigs, eggs hatch, but there it was, the birth that blew my mind.
I hope everyone gets a lot of these moments. I would feel bereft if I couldn't feel awe.
As you remember your experiences, I will tell a few of mine. I am a lucky woman in that quite a lot of things blow my mind. The people who study brain chemistry might have a good explanation for this but can they show us how the process gets rolling? I mean, it is like labor in childbirth. We know a lot about the hormones involved. We certainly know the process, but I have yet to hear anyone with a clear understanding of what actually triggers the start of the labor. Is it the alignment of the stars after all? Does science begin when spiritual science lets off? Just wondering.
What got me onto this subject today was my experience at church this morning. I have been going to a little Catholic church in Larkspur, CA. I was drawn to it because it looked a little more New England than many of the West Coast churches. Then I found the bonus of the wonderful Father Lawrence. Enough said. Today's mass was nice. It was friendly. There were tons of people especially with young families. It was mundane. That's what got me thinking about the several times in my life when going to church has been awesome.
They were pretty big events. The first time I went to what used to be called High Mass in St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. High mass when I was a kid was Gregorian chants, tons of frankincense incense, elaborate vestments , big flowers, the whole nine yards. I was struck silent. The mass at Campostella at the end of the Camino was awesome. It was not only big in every way...thousands of people, dozens of priests, all the mumbo jumbo anyone could wish for but everyone there was not only giving a huge collective exhale but I have never felt such a collective gratitude. (Must have been that on a gigantic scale when WW11 ended. I was too young to remember.) We had made it. Whatever 'it' was.
I have felt awe at a few concerts. Hearing Pablo Casals play cello, hearing Miha Pogacnik play violin, these were big experiences for me. Seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time at sunset with the setting sun's rays coming through the waves. Oh my God!
At High Mowing School on a freezing mountain top in New Hampshire, I was pregnant with my third child. Samuel Kaymen was our resident farmer. (He and his family later started Stoneyfield Yoghurt). Samuel sent someone to fetch us when a horse of his was starting labor. Watching this horse foul was unbelievably awesome to me. When I lose the ability to speak, it is a big deal. I hope many of you have a chance to see such power in your lifetime.
The mother horse paced. She went around in circles. She shuddered a few times. I thought we were in for the long haul. Not so. She calmed down and focused (no kidding!). Then she kind of groaned a few times. Then her muscles tensed. Then steam rose from her body. I mean enough to fill a steam room. She didn't move her hoofs. She pushed. Out slid this perfectly gorgeous foul fully in the caul, The steam stopped and she looked happy and normal and we were all speechless. I don't know, I have seen many women give birth, the usual dogs and cats and pigs, eggs hatch, but there it was, the birth that blew my mind.
I hope everyone gets a lot of these moments. I would feel bereft if I couldn't feel awe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)