Experience

I read something today about experiencing life fully. It talked abut jumping into water and not thinking about oneself or the water... only swimming. This appears to be so contrary to "education." That is, education defined as thinking about one does.

I'm reminded about a man called Slim in Garibaldi Oregon (I expect that he is long gone). Every night he'd go to the tavern and drink. Every morning he'd be at the dock to meet the fisherman coming back with catches. I would watch him for hours cleaning the fish and throwing their remains to the seagulls.

Is this what the zen teachers are talking about when they say to experience whatever you are doing fully? Is zen training a process of uneducating? I understand in ancient times most people were peasant farmers who were involved with farming. Were they doing what the Zen masters preached?

One of my art teachers told me about teaching in a mental institution. He said that at first the patients had lots of fun, but then they started thinking about what they were doing and they started getting so disturbed that they had to stop offering the art classes.

If what I'm saying (that education keeps us from experiencing things fully) has any truth then why do we do it? And how could schools be changed so that students would be more capable of experiencing life fully rather than less? Ideas?

Two irrelevant ideas

or are they? I recently experienced a situation where people were at odds with each other. Not unusual, I guess, on Earth... but this time they really loved one another... and yet didn't want to be with the each other. It was sad. Life is so short and when we can't let go of our "positions" long enough to be with someone we love... that is even sadder.

And then there is my girl friend from 50 years ago who stopped being my Facebook friend because she suspected I had become a Republican. My claims to being a libertarian must have just made things worse. If I was only friends with libertarians I'd be spending all my time infront of a mirror. So I didn't look her up after traveling 2000 miles to where she lives (no, that wasn't the reason for my trip).

And then death roars its ugly head... not once, but five times in four weeks. And with my contemporaries. When we die, we are reduced to a few grains of sand. How can that be? The priest said the other evening that when we are born our minds are blank, and then when we die we return to that state. The next day he said that when we sit zazen, we are facing death. I did not understand that when he said it, but tonight, sitting, I realized that when we focus on our breath we return to that state where there is no garbage in our noodle... and then we notice when she (the garbage) raises her ugly head, and we smile, and thank her for coming, and tell her she can leave now by the same door she entered.

He asked if I have time to mourn. I said yes, logically finding no reason why I didn't have time. But I really felt uneasy saying yes, because maybe I wasn't ready to mourn. I mentioned that my mom would say that when we mourn, we mourn our own death. Maybe, "do you have time to mourn" meant "do you have mourning time" or "are you going to allow yourself to mourn." We have time for lots of things that we don't do. Don't we?

Hope Diamond

a.k.a. Haystack rock, the most beautiful rock in the world.

Burial at Sea

We watched and wiped tears as his ashes merged with the foaming sea. I was astonished how this bigger-than-life individual could so quickly become a few grains of sand. My sis reminded me that the influence he had on so many individuals was far greater than his meager physical remains.

Burial at Land

A small vessel containing his ashes was placed in a hole in the ground. Some of us moved a little dirt into the hole. Some couldn't participate, perhaps feeling that they weren't ready to say "goodbye."

E & B

Here are my cousins in the front yard of the house that no longer belongs to our family. We joked about claiming it as ours since the current owners appeared to be out of town.

Cannon Beach Home

Life, when not lived in the present, is full of regrets. This was our summer home in Oregon when I was growing up. We should have never sold it. They say you can't go home again. I did, and realize how much I miss my all-time favorite home.

One Horse Town

We stopped at this country store to buy me some cough drops. It also seemed to be the post office for the community.

Missed Plane

Fortunately I missed my plane. I leave at 6am and get into Aus at 145pm

Should be a good time to listen to the vacuum cleaners and write about all the wonderful experiences I had taking various modes of transportation to get to the airport.  

I'm feeling good and have come to realize that bolting down the terminals is faster than a train that took forever to come and then transferred to a bus that took forever to come that wouldn't drop me off at Continental because that isn't what he does.

I board in 4 hrs. Yea. Oh. It is 1 am and what a nice place this is. Great noises. Either my ears are buzzing or some Hightower frequency airport noise.

Arrive Portland

On to Portland

Waiting for bag in Phoenix

On plane to Phoenix

Ready for a cat nap @ 605am

2 hr 1 minute flight.

Why can't it be faster?

Children

How interesting to live for a week with two boys—one a year old, and the other almost four.

I remember my initial hesitation in having children myself... that they'd be a lot of trouble and what did they have to do with art, anyway? But my wife wanted to do it... so, why not?

One would think that with such an attitude I'd end up with a couple of pills as kids... but somehow, in spite of my initial hesitation, they are champs. And in the process we gained a stupendous daughter-in-law and grandkids, so this post is not about regret for choosing to have kids, but to praise parents who make the incredibly tough commitment to raise kids into responsible and loving adults.

I remember the school nurse telling me that she'd tell young men to take some condoms from the basket on her desk, reminding them that a few minutes of fun brings 18 years of responsibility. I'm not sure where she got this information, but I think it's must be more like 40 years that children need family support and guidance. First of all, it is not a few minutes or even hours a day for 18 years. It is 24/7 for 18 years. Or maybe 25/8 for 18 years. Or... And then there is the problem with setting the cut off point so short. Really it is 18000 years... first because whatever you do gets played out for generations to come, and then, they don't really go away come their 18th birthday.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, ...." says the four year old when he is trying to enter a conversation. It works. Since it is impossible to maintain a train of thought, one needs to pause and regroup, at which point he dives in, excitedly telling what he's interested in.

And there are the precious moments intertwined with the moments that you'd rather not happen, like when he grabs something from his adorable little brother, making him cry a bucket of tears.

I'm always surprised at the drive people have to start a family. It seems they were having a perfectly good time, sleeping in on Sunday morning and able to have a conversation without interruption. And yet, as the insatiable consumers that they are, they reproduce and give up their freedom for a pile of huge responsibility. And expense. And great joy when their kids do well, and great sadness when they walk down bad roads.

It would be one thing if all parents had to do was to raise kids. But, unfortunately, most have a number of additional jobs, some dedicated by passion, some by the need to earn a living, and some by both. Any job, done well, takes 200% of one's energy. And, unfortunately, there are some in every field that expend that amount of energy (and more), sometimes in place of a balanced life. So this "good parent" is also competing with the other guy or gal who doesn't have a life. And he or she might have two or three careers going beyond parenting. And what about being married? No wonder marriages often fizzle out. How can a marriage be nurtured when there are two kids and a number of careers? I have very little responsibilities (comparatively) in my life, and it is hard to give proper attention to the few that I have.

We read about the feats of Ulysses, but do we realize that the typical parents have challenges far more difficult and far-reaching? And so little skill and preparation. They operate, for the most part, from the seat of their pants. And when seeing and reading about the child-rearing epics of those who are so-called experts we learn that perhaps not having any idea how to parent is much more a benefit than a liability.

If I appear to be anything but in total awe and respect for anyone who takes on this 18000 commitment then I apologize. It is a job critical to the continuation of our species and our planet. It is a feat of Ulysses ten-fold. We really need to wonder why some CEOs are paid millions when others who have such critical and difficult careers can barely make ends meet. But that's the subject for another post.

Pendulum Swings

I'm imagining a little guy who sits on top of this beautiful bronze pendulum at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. He could have a wonderful life, swinging back and forth between the highs and lows of existence. Instead...

The hunter is hungry, walking miles in the woods looking for food. And he comes upon a fruit bearing tree. He starts ravishing all the fruit and falls into a deep sleep. When he awakes, he finds that someone has taken his shoes.

The little guy never wants to let go of the highs and interrupts the swing by grabbing on to anything he can. He could be enjoying the breeze through his hair as the pendulum swings from a to b, but instead is caught up in the three fires or defilements in Buddhism: greed, hate, and delusion. His life is dependent on the position of the pendulum rather than its motion. His delusion is believing that the pendulum will stop and provide him fruit whenever he wants it. "That's only fair," he says to himself. His hate is for those moments that don't provide him pleasure (and for life itself). And his greed drives him to try to stop the pendulum from swinging.

Good luck, mister.

P.S. Credit for this goes to William Blake who wrote:

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the wingèd life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise.

Tragedy Dissipates

We throw a pebble into the stream and ripples form. Gradually the ripples go away, preparing the stream for the next pebble. The endless cycle from stillness to ripples continues day and night.

At one moment the ripples are now, at the next moment they are history. Yet the transition is what we watch as we toss the pebbles. From the stillness we see the little splash of water, then the slight well that is formed as the pebble starts to sink followed by the concentric rings that emanate from ground zero.

When tragedy strikes we may feel that we've been struck with a truck. We can think of nothing but the tragedy. Then a few days later, we start to continue in our life where we left off. But there are the frequent reminders. Gradually the reminders become less frequent, and our lives go on. The tragedy that knocked us down is now worn as a cloak, making us who we are and allowing us to get up to prepare for the next pebble.

Truth

I learned something today. Or maybe I didn't.

I had believed something for most of my life that turned out not to be true. It doesn't much matter what it was. What does matter is that I realized that we operate on certain assumptions and believe them to be true... And then we discover that they were not true and see how that discovery challenges our sense of reality. I wonder what else have I believed most of my life that is not true? How is it that one story is as good as the next. Misinformation is not tagged in any special manner. It looks just like the truth. And we operate like it is the truth.

So what do I do now? Abandon all faith? Or continue to believe in what I "know" until the carpet is pulled out from underneath me.

I am fortunate that I've had a relatively stable life and that this kind of thing has not happened very often. But suppose this happened repeatedly to one and where held assumptions were proven false one by one. Would it make us insane? Could we handle it? Or would we just dismiss the evidence and just continue to pretend?

I decided not to tell my wife. Why should she be told the truth when the fantasy was more tolerable? If I loved her, would I tell her what I had learned about reality?

So I told her that I wasn't going to tell her the truth about what I learned today because I loved her. Oh, she said, do you mean about... you knew about that and forgot.

Remembering, knowing, forgetting... all tricks our minds play to make us think we are in charge.

Where is Art? (meandering thoughts)

There are many arts. My photo teacher was Art. My cousin who left Earth last Friday was Art. And art is art...in all her myriad forms. Mikeangelo (intentionally misspelled... but that's for another post... ) said that his figures were trapped in the marble and that he'd have to release them.

Recently (since I was born) I've been looking at art in terms of seeing how the artist saw life. How did he make sense of this seemingly chaos? How did he deal with tragedy and joy. Sometimes I see new ways of dealing with these issues myself and sometimes I feel that that artists have avoided these questions. Probably that art that avoids this reflection of life has value...but I find I'm not too interested in it.

How is it that one can make art with no interest in this topic? And people pay big bucks to look at art purely for carnal pleasure. The other day I was listening to a book on tape that was directed to young adults. It was pure blood and guts. Maybe there was some socially redeeming statement that was supposed to open my eyes, but instead the vicious narrative just left me with a bad feeling.

Part of my interest in zen is my interest in working on these basic questions of life, such as, where did we come from and where are we going? What is right action and what is not? What is this, whether it be a spot on the wall or a gushing oil well? And what am I when I quiet down and face the music...what ever that means? It is something like looking at oneself in the mirror...not to judge but simple to see what is on the other side.

As I think of the other two Arts who have left Earth I am left with vivid memories and teachings. Imagine that someone said "April fools" and then confessed that they did not really leave Earth. Would things really be different? Yes. Would they be more real? Now we are comparing infinities and we see that the vividness of the memories are immense.

So the question remains, "where is Art?" and how do I find her. And what then? I asked my grandson this question at dinner. It was all too obvious to him. He said he just sits down and makes a drawing. I wish it was that simple for me. Or maybe not.

Tragedies

Friday morning: My cousin wrote yesterday about Treme, an HBO dramatization of Katrina's impact on the Treme neighborhood. I watched the trailer and requested it on Netflix, so someday I'll  see it.

Not only was Katrina a terrible tragedy, but the recent oil spill has added "insult onto injury."

That said (and felt), I started to think about the elephant in the room. We are all on death row. (You probably didn't want to hear that.) Today our circumstances maybe be a lot better than Treme. But we are essentially in the same boat (some may crucify me for saying that). We are prone to sickness, heartbreak, and death. Prone is a euphemism. All our attachments will depart someday. Even the Earth, as we know it, will go away. And yet we smile. And yet we feel compassion for those less fortunate.

In the 80s, I met a few who were struck with AIDS. They knew they were on death row, and they could predict when their execution would occur. Yet they had an air of contentment that I had never seen before. In spite of (or because of) their certain demise (medicine is prolonging that now), they were able to have a certain strength to enjoy each moment for what it was. No more pretending about the elephant.

Later Friday: All was going well in my life, though my cough comes and goes (mostly comes, or at least, so it seems right now). In any case, a terrible tragedy occurred today to a different cousin and we all mourn for him. The elephant sometimes appears at the least predictable times or places. I dedicate this drawing to my cousin.

My son and I visited him last fall, and shared with him a bottle of wine watching the Oregon sunset. He loved the ocean as he did telling a good story. We shall miss him.

No and Yes, Birthing and Deathing...and Now

A letter to my 4 year-old grandson:

Jasper,

The other day I refused to read the book that told me about the rest of my life. Good thing, too, since the book does not exist. I like the fact that each day brings us something new.

This morning I received your video, where you so beautifully discuss the meaning of yes and no. That is such a quandary in Chinese, since they don't have words for yes or no. If you ask, "is the soup ready?" they simply answer, "it is ready" or "it is." So you see, we can function without those words "yes" and "no" that we use so often. It is a lot faster to say "yes" in answer to "are you ready for dessert" than to say "I am ready for dessert." But the Chinese were not in a hurry. At least, that is what we were told. Now they are in a hurry, rushing around like there is no tomorrow (that's an expression that you can figure out yourself).

I received another email today, this one from my Austin teacher asking me to consider a poem for the Zen journal I edit. It was a fine poem, but it was about now (the present moment) rather that about birth and death, which is the subject of the next issue. So I wrote him that it wasn't about birth and death, but maybe we could make the issue after birth and death to be an issue about "now," since now is between birth and death. He wrote back that there is no in between birth and death, and that, anyway, birth and death are ideas.

I wrote back that death being an idea would be an interesting defense in a murder trial. Suppose one of the mouse traps went off that we set in your house and "caught" the mouse. And suppose it was against the law to end of lives of mice, as it is to end the lives of dogs. So then whoever set the trap would be arrested and they would stand trial for ending the life of a mouse. And the lawyer for the accused (I think I set the trap, so I'd have to come back to Philadelphia to stand trial as the accused)... the lawyer for the accused would argue that I can't be accused of breaking a crime because ending the life of a mouse is just an idea, and we don't have laws, at least criminal laws, about ideas. I'm sure you follow this, and if you don't, that's ok too.

So I took a nap (because your grandma told me I needed to do that if I wanted to go out...which I do) and when I woke up I thought about there being nothing in between birth and death. So if you think about it then I think you'll see that it makes sense. Since you are growing you are being born. It is a gradual process. When you started your life you were smaller than the head of a pin. When you were about as heavy as brick, you came out into the world from your mom. Now you are as heavy as 5 or 6 bricks. Your dad is as heavy as almost 25 bricks. At some point, we stop growing and we start dying. Nothing to worry about though, because, like "birthing," that takes a very long time. Except for the mouse who is hungry for peanut butter.

But don't worry about the mice in your house, because any good Philadelphia mouse prefers peanut butter with sugar to your better-for-you Trader Joe's peanut butter. So the mouse, you, me, and everyone else who are around are still birthing to deathing. And so birth and death are really one, and they really are just ideas in our minds, and now... what is now? Maybe that's for another letter. OK?

Grandpa Kim

P.S. I sent this to my teacher. He replied, "Kim Oy! The rest of the idea reads thus: There is no absolute birth and no absolute death, and what is born is born and what dies dies. Smiles,..."