Buddha killed the Pirates?

The Buddha killed a band of pirates. What is that about?

No, it was in one of his previous lives, as told in the Jakata stories.

That's against the vows, isn't it?

Maybe. The Buddha-to-be knew that the pirates were going to sink the ship and kill all the passengers.

So the Buddha killed the pirates to save the passengers?

Apparently not. He was worried about the karmic consequences for the pirates if they were to go through with their plan.

But what about his own karmic consequences for taking a life?

He was willing to forego those to protect the pirates.

So he killed the pirates to save them?

I guess so. Hope he never wants to save me.

Do you have any evil plans?

Not any more.

Moral Dilemmas 101

So help me out here.

What's wrong now?

You told me about the trolley car, out of control, ready to run over five people.

Yes, that happens every day.

And so the driver, if she could, switches the tracks and the train now runs over only one person.

Right. The driver made a wise choice. Sacrificing one life to save five.

The more difficult dilemma is for the bystander. Does he throw a person onto the tracks to stop the trolley, given if he doesn't, five people will die?

Or maybe he feels that not doing anything is ok?

That's really the issue for me. Is it ok to do nothing?

I don't know. I remember when the man was beat up on the subway tracks in NYC and people just stood around. Imagine if we had laws against inactivity.

Yea... you don't jump in the pool to save the kid... then you could go to jail.

Or you don't learn CPR.

Or... you buy an expensive house rather than a cheap house, thereby diverting money from starving children.

Or... you don't take out a big life insurance policy before throwing yourself infront of the trolley, thereby eliminating a giant good deed to those in need. Is that acceptable and compassionate behavior?

Stay tuned to the next episode of Moral Dilemmas 101

You're too close

You're too close

For me, or for you?

That's just what I mean. Why can't you just say, "yes" and then move away?

Would the reason make any difference?

Of course. Not really.

Let's get back to this "you're just too close."

Fine. When someone says that, it is time to move away.

I know my limitations. I know that I have a tendency to clutch and then slip.

That is your problem.

Yes, and since we are together, it is your problem too.

Now you are really projecting. I'm quite comfortable with our distance.

Eeks... Now I'm really getting worried.

Me tooooooooooooo......

Later, in Segway heaven.

Sure glad we were able to come together.

Yea, I don't want some rookie riding me.

I didn't mean that.

?

Lots of territory to explore here.

Lots of time, though.

Most of my friends are here.

Did they get too close too?

Much later, in God's chambers.

What is that thing you are standing on, my son?

It is a Segway, Mr. God. It is used on Earth to get people from point a to point b.

I gave them legs.

Yes, but through many years of misuse and abuse, they don't work that well.

So you are dependent on a couple of wheels driven by lithium-ion batteries?

Yes.

So why don't you move?

Can't find a place to plug it in.

Sorry about that. So sorry. Maybe now you can learn to walk.

Dedicated to Jimi Heselden, Segway CEO, who road over a cliff 9/26/10.

One sided conversation with Phillipa Foot, RIP

You're up awfully early.

And you're asleep.

You really think we can have a meaningful conversation?

I can try? Who is it that gives our conversations meaning?

Huh?

So here's what I want to discuss?

Shh...

Listen, you told me shh last night. You get one shh every twenty-four hours.

Why?

It is Texas.

Oh. Shoot. But make it quick.

No promises.

Do you realize I fall asleep over and over again?

Yea.

And then get woked. Or is it waked? In any case, the Chinese could hire your as a torture chamber.

This is important.

I said shoot. And... make it fast.

Well, I'm going to ride a Segway today. And I want to know if I lose control and run into a crowd, should I aim for a spot with the least number of people?

Of course. Unless you are overly concerned with the latest census.

Now... if you were a trolley car driver, and your trolley brake was busted and you were barreling down the track, and you could either kill five people, or pull the switch and go down another track and kill one... what would you do?

Oh... this is torture. I'm not a trolley car driver... but if I was and you were the one...

Funny. One more question and you'll get my point. Or not.

Shoot. Aim for my head or the heart, please.

You are a surgeon. You have six patients, five of whom are dying and need a critical and different transplant. And you have one (healthy) patient who has all the needed organs. Unfortunately, he (or she) could not live without them. Would you kill one patient to save five?

Are you the one patient?

(Dedicated to Philippa Foot, great moral philosopher.)

You Don't Love Me

You shouldn't have turned there. You never remember the way.

You don't love me.

Is it that apparent?

Sometime you hide it rather well.

Like when I do your stinky laundry?

Yes, then, and when you cook omelets.

And that's it. I do those two things just to throw you off.

And it works most of the time. But, by now, I learned to see right through you.

I saw right through you from the day you put twigs in my mud pie.

You were four then. I guess that's why you made me go home... And told me you'd never be my friend.

So you married me for my money.

I was 36 and the time clock was clicking and despite your obnoxious behavior I though of all the possible mates, you probably had the best genes.

You should have gone to the sperm bank.

That's about the best idea you've ever had.

I think we are just about there. Around that curve we'll see the ocean.

I so love it when we go on vacation.

Me too. And get a break from the brats and our work.

Yea...

The Wise Ass Buddha

Mr. Buddha, I've been a total failure.

Tell me more, monk.

My mind wanders, I don't learn the chants, I get angry and impatient and selfish. Need I say more?

No, do not say more.

Can you tell me one thing I could do to cure my ways?

I could.

Will ya?

Yes.

Now?

Sure. Just master your mind.

Easier said than done.

But it is one thing, as you asked, you goof-ball.

Who is it that should master my mind?

Don't play any of those zen games on me. It isn't important.

What kind of Buddha are you? First you say, "master your mind" and
then when I ask who should do the work, you say it isn't important.

To be truthful, I'm not a very good Buddha. I know of no truths or paths
that you do not need to find yourself.

So can you point me to a better Buddha?

Sure, look in the mirror.

Who taught you those wise ass answers?

I see your impatience and anger. Why don't you go off into a cave for nine years and work on your mind.

My mind. Where is my mind?

Go into the cave, and your mind will follow you. Then master it, watching it as it gets lost over and over again.

And who watches it?

You'll find someone, don't worry.

And then what?

That will be enough...

LoseIt

I started my diet today.

And yesterday, and the day before.

No, I really did it today. My intentions were solid.

Solid? That's a new one.

Yea, I use this iphone app called LoseIt.

I think you've LostIt.

Hey, let me explain.

I'm listening.

Ok, I was getting impatient with my progress, so I set my goal up to 2 lbs a week from 1.5 lbs a week.

That sounds ambitious.

Too. I couldn't get my calories down for more than one day. I'd just be hungry... you know... ready to eat aannyytthhiinngg.

Ok... then what.

Well, I started out today with my normal taco breakfast at the local Mexican restaurant. A couple of corn tortillas, beans, avocado, and rajas. 250 calories.

Hey, this is getting boring.

No... wait... it gets better.

I didn't get home from breakfast until about 11 am... so I just had peanut butter on a cracker for lunch.

I said this is getting boring.

Shh... Then I went to the market to buy some bananas. I forgot until I got there how many free samples they had. I thought this would just strengthen my character... to walk past potato chips, great cheese and crackers, and hibiscus tea.

But you have willpower, right?

Ya know, as I came into the market, my first thought was that I should have had the sailors tie me to the mast... but then I thought I'm strong... and I'm really into this diet today... and those food sirens won't tempt me.

Wait... what is wrong with hibiscus tea? There can't be any calories to that.

Well, that's what I thought. Especially when I noticed that the woman demonstrating the tea was blind. Blind people don't lie... right?

Never. I've never been lied to by a blind person.

Right. So I drank the tea and told her how good it tasted.

And...

She replied that she had a secret.

We all have secrets. What else is new?

No... a secret about the tea. She confessed that she had added apple juice and agave to it.

No... that's criminal... you could have been diabetic and...

Yea... but worse, I was off the wagon. Off... way off. Went to those potato chips that were free and had a handful... then to the cheese... then to the organic cheerios.

That isn't too bad.

Until I came to the free Henry's frozen custard.

You have got to be kidding.

No... I thought... what can one cup of coffee custard set me back?

How was it?

Great.

Were you done?

I thought so. I saw some mint and asked her about it. She said it was mint with chocolate chip but that all the chips are gone. Who wants mint custard just by itself?

What happened to those poor chips?

She said she didn't know.

And then?

Then she scooped out another cup and there were two beady eyed chips looking right at me.

Don't tell me you ate that too.

Yea...

So what's next?

Tomorrow...

In 99 Years

Her gray hair was thin,
tired of many years
of endless
combing and brushing.

The silvered strands
were expertly cut—
they could not have been
better cared for,
considering her
age.

She smiled for the lens.
Her mouth formed
a polished camera
facial expression.

She had been
on that side
of the lens
many times before—
it was apparent

as she was able to combine
a wry suspicion
with a pseudo-authentic smile,
making it all seem pleasing in the end.

There was a hard,
Eastern-European texture
to her face.

She had not chosen mud
and other beauty facial treatments,
rather had lived an adventurous
yet privileged life.

Her smile said
"I've seem much of life
in 99 years, and,
now it is yours
to enjoy and tend."

She work a black scarf
wrapped around her neck,
giving some dimension
to her very small body.

That sat onto
a poka-dotted shawl,
which was inside,
and partially covered by
another larger shawl,
laced with gold thread.

Her forearms and hands
emerged
from the third shawl.

The arms were larger
than one might expect
coming from
such a petit figure.

These (almost workman) arms,
as familiar
gardening
as editing books,
laid one upon
the other
in a warm gesture.

There was no tension,
but the weight of one arm
on the other
seemed a little more
than she could bear

causing her smile
now to tighten and
not seem
quite as relaxed
as her face
first suggested.

Her skirt exhibited
a similar
but darker dot pattern
to the smaller of the two shawls.

Her legs
appeared to be tired,
at 99,
as they struggled to
hold up her arms,

with dignity,
as a pedestal holds
tirelessly
a death mask.

Goodbye, dear aunt.

Beautiful creature

This strange creature was pecking away at something.
Is it a turkey?
It had the most magnificent pattern on its feathers.
Where else but Austin would it be wandering about on its own?

Allergic to Work

The tall lanky Italian with greasy black hair and a day's growth on his face grunted when the American couple came to his dad's restaurant. "No seats," he said in broken English that might have been the entire extend of his English vocabulary.

"But, you have no customers... look, no one's here."

"No seats, no reser va tions," he asserted sharply, fumbling over the largest word in English that he knew, and not caring for the American's logic.

He then walked into the back room to sit down and finish his glass of wine.

"Who was that?" his dad asked.

"Just a couple of Americanos... we don't need them."

"Don't need them... you want some gas money for that car of yours?"

His dad was a smaller and fatter version of the lanky Italian. In place of the black hair was a polished skull. The father's face turned red as he realized that his son was allergic to work.

The couple walked out, with the tall man remarking to the short woman, "you know, this is why I love traveling to foreign countries... you are treated like s...t."

"Perhaps this just isn't the restaurant for us," the short woman consoled. "Remember, there are two other restaurants in the town... maybe we'll have better luck with one of them."

The Italian man and his father continued to argue. The American couple could hear them as they walked away.

Battlecry of the Supermarket

Hey Buddy, you have eleven items on the check out belt. Can't you read? It says clearly... very clearly... ten items or less.

Yes, can you count? Do you see that I have a pair of chicken legs. That has got to count as one. One chicken. One. Got it. One.

No way, Buddy. An item is an item. And my meter is running. You want to pick up your stuff or you want to see what this fist feels like on your fat face.

Hey, the manager saw what I had in my cart and told me to get in this line. He obviously knows that chickens have two legs.

Just like people are supposed to have one brain? Maybe the manager needs to go back to school as well.

Oh, here he comes now.

What's up boys?

Didn't you tell me to get in this line?

Why yes, I did.

Hey, Mr. Boss, can't you count? He has eleven items. What are rules for? What are laws for? Why did I fight in your damn blasted war? Why do I carry this piece?

Men are clueless...

Some men are clueless.

He told me that I'd be so excited.

Why?

He said that he was worried, when he got an occlusal (not ocular!) guard to prevent grinding his teeth at night, he wouldn't be able to talk to me when I'm trying to fall asleep.

Oh... I'm so glad you'll be able to wake me up over and over again, like a Chinese torture, but worse.

Does your guy talk and talk at night? Where do they get that energy?

It isn't energy. It is left-over small anti-brain production. You are lucky that you don't get it all day long.

Paralysis by Analysis

The NYTimes had an article about Andrew Cuomo this am where he was accused of "paralysis by analysis." Milton Friedman said at one time that we don't make better decisions after about ten minutes of deliberation. My dad said "you can't move too slowly." A week later, when I told him that I shared that with my students and they were having trouble understanding it, he said, "I never heard anything so stupid."

So we are back to the Buddhist skepticism about "views" as something that takes us away from experiences. We used to call that "prejudice." If I think I don't like Jackson Pollock's paintings, and I happen on one that I've never seen... will I be open to it? No, of course not.

The worst thing about analysis (especially the kind that goes on and on) is that we never become comfortable with our decisions. We have thought so much about the possible negative consequences of our proposed actions that we can't ever be 100% sure it was the right path.

Someone figured out that our unconscious makes decisions about 1/10th of a second before our conscious mind is aware of that decision. Then we conjure up an argument to defend our heart.

One of the aspects I like about improv theater is that there isn't time to procrastinate. One has to respond now. Right now. Imagine if Mr. Cuomo did that.

A very strange posting.

A very strange posting. I feel like I came in on the middle of the movie.

I'm not sure there is anything else but the middle of the movie. We only walk into conversations, events, experiences. We don't do much else.

We sit on a couch, talk to a person. Both are others.

I'm not sure that there is always a big difference between ourselves and others, though couches can be more comfortable if you are looking for a place to sit down.

And they are always there for you.

Yes, and they never contradict you... or say that they are clueless about what you are getting at.

So you'd like to be hitched to a couch?

Sometimes, until I try to get it to move.

Turn off the Fan

"In reality all of our problems are nothing more than a failure to accept things as they are."

So why change things? Why don't we just accept the shit hitting the fan?

Because we can turn off the fan?

Guess so.

Bodhisattva vow is to save all sentient beings. Seems a whole lot easier to just accept suffering.

Maybe we end suffering by helping people realize that they create suffering by wanting things to be different than they are?

Maybe?

AA got it right, "God, grant me the serenity: To accept the things I cannot change; ... mind to accept that which cannot be changed; courage to change that which can be changed."

Oh!

Especially one who can't fly.

I hear your dog barking.

That's fortunate.

Yes, no one drowned her.

She's a good swimmer, like all bird dogs.

Hound dogs I can understand.
But why would a bird bark?

No, a bird dog is for hunting birds.

Why do you need a dog? Especially one who can't fly.

I can't sleep when the dog barks.

That's why the dog barks. She's alerting you of eminent danger.

I don't want to be alerted. I don't care if king kong is in the yard.
Sleep is more important.

I'll talk to the beast. Maybe she can refrain when just you are endangered.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

Part Salesman

You're a couch and I'm going to sit on you.

Oh no you don't. I'm asleep.

Asleep. You hardly did anything today.

But I get tired lying here. TV makes me sleepy.

Why do you turn it on?.

You left it on, silly.

I can't imagine that.

So how was your day?

You know, same old, same old.

Same old what?

They told me that I needed to sell more parts.

So what's wrong with that... a little motivation?

Can I help it if people aren't losing their limbs as much these days?

You could help things along.

How? By using a machette?

Sometimes Anger is Necessary... NOT!

Again, someone used that phrase, "sometimes anger is necessary." And again it hit me hard... like something is wrong but I can't figure out what. Just like the people who pay the minimum on their credit cards. Who cares that the interest is stupendous. They are living now, not tomorrow. I've never had a late bill... but others... Someday, someone will explain what is wrong with that.

In the meantime, I figured out the error in logic with the statement "sometimes anger is necessary." Well, the error is in the logic that anger is justified because good things may come from it.

Tonight I thought about jumping out of a tree to scare someone walking on a dark path. What I didn't know (this is all pretend) that the person (a woman) was partially paralyzed for many years and doctors could not help her. So, with only evil intent, I jumped out of the tree, and she saw me coming and ran out of the way. Her paralysis was no more. Now... was my scaring her a good thing? Of course not. Did it have a good result? Yes.

We don't need anger. Sometimes good comes from it... but generally it just breeds war. My friend sent me an article, Major cyber attack on Iran cripples its industries. His friend sent it to him, with the comment, "great news, for a change." I wrote back that it is never good news when we hurt one another. Maybe the least of all possible evils, but no, not good news. That's sadistic (and there I go with judging my fellow man).

Supposedly the martial art warriors know that anger will not help them. Do they know something that we don't? Enough said?

So I ask again, what might be the compassionate response to this very special buddha?

This guy has been going into people's driveways at night and checking their inspection sticker and license tag to see if they are up to date. When they are not, he scrawls on their windshield, "I don't care if you are broke don't drive if u are! Don't be a bitch get it
fixed. I can't believe u can drive illegal!! If ur going to own it get it
inspected or I'll get it towed."

He's being called a "creep, weirdo, and idiot."

I asked our neighbor e-list if there might be a compassionate response that we might make.

When we lash out it feels that we are perpetuating anger.

Which reminds me of the story of Job, who lost everything but still had faith. This man may have lost his faith as well.

Then there is the Buddhist description of the odds of being born human. "The likelihood of a half-blind turtle, rising from the depths of the ocean to the surface once in a hundred years, putting its head through the hole in the yoke is considered greater than that of a being in saṃsāra achieving rebirth as a human." That's how special is each person. It would take more than a creep, weirdo, and idiot to achieve such an accomplishment. We should bow to them.

So are we talking about sin here? Is this man a sinner, trying to right the sins of those who don't follow the law?

So I ask again, what might be the compassionate response to this very special buddha?

I Remember That

I did a one day sit with Robert Kennedy Roshi, a Jesuit Priest/Buddhist Roshi/psychoanalyst/former professor. I'd been told that he was good... and I trusted the source, so I went with a friend to San Antonio to see for myself.

The hours of the "sesshin" were not as advertised, so when we got there we discovered that everyone was sitting. We waited for the short 25 minute to be over so we could join the group in kinhin (walking meditation). Though I had seen a picture of him of the web, I couldn't recognize him.

My friend had black pants and a black shirt with white spots. He asked me when he got into my car if I thought his shirt was too lively for the sesshin. No, I said, this guy is pretty cool.

So I looked over the group walking. In the official zen world a priest would have a robe. No, noone had a robe, even the priest who ran the zendo. But everyone was in black, even yours truly. Everyone, that is, except a tall gray-haired man with kaki pants (w/rolled up cuffs) and a patterned shirt. Clearly this would not be Kennedy Roshi. He should have a robe and a collar and maybe a patch over one eye... not kaki pants and a patterned shirt.

So, you guessed it... it was him, in all his splendor.

I'm now listening to some of his talks on CDs that I purchased. He told an interesting story about Bodhidharma, who supposedly said that if a monk only studied and copied the teachings then he could be killed because there was no need for him. We need people with insight. Yea... not to the killing, but with that the point of view. How it might change education?

When I was in college my friend Susan said that if two people say the same thing, there is only need for one of them. I don't remember too many things that friends told me almost 50 years ago... but I remember that.

He Flew Ten Feet in the Air

I went to this revival meeting Sunday. Well, not on purpose. I went to my improv class, forgetting that it was cancelled because Tami, our teacher, was doing a gig in Hawaii, and then passed by this guy singing great gospel music behind the storefront theater,

and then they invited anyone to speak about god, and I should have, but I didn't, but then a guy stood up (the one in the blue shirt) and said that he didn't speak very often but then he told the story of how four months ago he was walking across the street and he was hit by a car and flew ten feet into the air and landed on a windshield and walked away toward home and the cop stopped him and asked him where he was going and he said home so they know where I died if that is what will happen to him and the cop said he needed to go the hospital and he said "by what office do you say that" and then he woke up in the hospital and the docs said he'd never walk... after doing the MRI and how "it is just a program" and the angel came and god came and now he can walk and yada yada yada...

What Sits

Someone told me this weekend that we are just a swarm. 90% of "our" bodies is actually bacteria that doesn't carry our DNA. Not bad stuff either. We need that bacteria to function... Some of it, at least. So this swarm sits on a cushion with millions of operations going on. Each atom is doing something in reaction to some stimuli. And last night someone said that we don't really multitask... We just do one thing at a time. IMHO, nothing could be further from the truth.

When Socrates was on trial he said that the philosopher would welcome death because then they could see clearly without being mislead by the desires of the body. Buddhists appear to take a very different approach that there isn't a duality. They use the expression "not one, not two." There is a Buddhist "mind," but it is one of the sense apparatus. Who receives the sense information? Is it the body? The whole swarm?

Probably. Or not.

On a different note, my friend claims there is no room for humor given the sad state of affairs in the world. He is implying that the state of affairs is worse than what it was at other times. Is it?

Buddhists talk about big mind and little mind. I think big mind can laugh when it is stuck in traffic... or when they get a new car and see that a falling pecan made a rust colored mark in the shiny paint. Laugh. How? Perhaps understanding the impermanence of the new car. Perhaps realizing that the pecan has a life too... and part of that life might be to mark a car. Perhaps by seeing events from every perspective.

I was thinking the other day that your little mind is in my big mind, and my little mind is in your big mind. Then the next day I thought that my little mind is in my big mind, all of which is one with everything else. We look at an animal and we don't separate their mind and body. We even look at people and we see them as unified forces (even if they are swarms). Why is it so difficult for us to see ourselves in the same way?

To Be Human

I have a feeling that describing what it is to be human is as difficult as thinking about higher dimensions. It may be beyond our imagination.

Maybe it makes more sense to speak of when we are human. When are we doing higher level activites that animals don't do? And who knows if that is really being human. Are we human when we love but not when we hate? Are we human when we resolve our differences peacefully rather than with war? Somehow I think of love/hate and peace/war as human characteristics, for they have prevailed throughout our history.

We behave like other animals much of the time. We are hard-wired, it seems, to fulfill certain instinctual needs. But we do a couple of things that other animals may not do: understand and create.

A dog hears a noise outside and runs to the window to investigate. He sees a cat and scares it out of the yard. So the dog did gain understanding and created change (the cat leaving) in its environment? Is this what we do when we tackle the challenges of our lives. Do we ever move to high levels? How about when we do art? Or are we just a different model of computer with a different processor and operating system?

I don't know? Can anyone help here?

Funny Business

I've been taking an improv comedy class for the last couple of months. It is one my favorite classes that I've ever taken. I wish there were not so many minutes between the classes one week to the next.

A few weeks ago I decided that I wasn't interested in the comedy part of improv comedy, but rather in the improv part. Then Wednesday night I went to an improv performance, and saw people having lots of fun. I hardly laughed, though, because I'm over 60 and everyone else was under 30 (well, almost) and why should I laugh when I've seen the other side of life.

What can be funny when people you love die, or... or...

But then on the other hand, I like jokes and send them to friends.

The other night I saw a friend laughing. He's going to become a Buddhist priest in a couple of months. I (jokingly) told him he couldn't laugh anymore once he became a priest. That's when I discovered I'm going be out of town when he gets ordained. A bummer.

All day I kept thinking that I wanted to write something funny. I've been caring for a guy who just had a bypass operation... and then an infection on the wound. It has been a hard ordeal for him and me. I told each of my kids that it was "interesting" and they both asked why. I said I didn't know.

Monks beg to give people an opportunity to give. When I learned that I didn't quite believe it. Now I do.

But funny. How can we be funny in the world as it is? With that elephant of death lurking in the corner. Yikes... he's in the middle of the room.

How could James Thurber have had so much fun while a war was going on?

So what's so funny.

Reminds me about the time when our daughter was so mad at us. She went up to her room and slammed the door. Then she wrote a note to us and opened the door, taped it to the door, and slammed it again. We went up stairs and read the note: "I hate you both and if you laugh at this note I'm never ever talk to you again."

I'm glad that stage passed. She's now such a wonderful part of our lives.

Don't Tread on Me, Time-Warner

I wanted to return a modem for a sick friend to Time-Warner. I did an online chat with them and the woman told me that they could pick it up from me, considering the circumstances... but that I'd have to call to arrange that.

I called the number they gave me... and they said they'd send a box. The only problem was that they would only send the box to his old address (not to me), so that wouldn't help. I kept saying "why would you want to send a box to an address where he used to live." And then, I spoke to a supervisor, and then I spoke to his supervisor. All three said that it is policy to send boxes to old addresses, not new ones. I asked if they were human beings and if they realized how absurd was this policy. I lost it. I leaked (Buddhist term).

Finally I gave up and drove the box to their office. The woman there was very very nice, and the modem is returned and I have a receipt. And I found at their office this poster advertising my next match.

Don't Tread on Me, Time-Warner

My four year old grandson called me when I got home. I told him the story. Without asking for his opinion, he simply said, "why don't you use an old box?"

Phil Gable Memorial

Last night we had a small memorial service for Phil Gable, a priest recently ordained at the Austin Zen Center. In Buddhist memorials, the sangha is invited to speak to the "departed" (remembering that there is no birth or death). I spoke first and forgot to do that, speaking about him. In any case, I told how, though he was a great warrior, he found something (that which takes our skin and bones) who was faster on the draw. Phil wrote the book, The Source, for which I did many illustrations.  You can see these illustrations starting with http://mrkimmosleywrite.blogspot.com/2009/07/hearing-words.html (click on new post to go through the illustrations... there are about 90).

After the book is edited it will be posted in blog form with the illustrations. Paula, his angelic wife, sent this picture of Phil with his family. He is in the center with his dog.

And here is his blog: http://philgable.blogspot.com/

Life on Earth

One of my projects for retirement was to find the truth. The woman in the painting is looking for it with a light attached to her hat and hand. I am no longer searching for that since I now realize that "the truth" is just an illusion, hence a creation of our minds.

Yesterday I dragged my wife down to a car dealer that was apparently willing to sell us a car for much less than another dealer that we had actually decided to go with. So we agreed with the new dealer on the car... and even accepted a color I didn't like... and then got down to brass tacks. Turns out that we were talking about different models, so the price wasn't really lower... and they didn't have the car... and my wife (who hates all of this kind of stuff) was furious at me for dragging her through all of this... so we ended up going to her favorite restaurant for dinner (and hardly talked). I then decided to get a still different car that she didn't like and didn't want to drive. Then we went home, and I started reading reviews on the car she didn't like (and I did), and went back to the car we had agreed on... except with a different interior color... and all's well.

So Thoreau said, "most men live lives of quiet desperation." There it is, in one paragraph. Is it the stuff of life? It is times like these that I want a lobotomy to clear out my memory.

Oh, back to the truth. Here it is... and you will probably be disappointed.

An Inconvenient Truth

No, not global warming, but rather having limited resources. Most, if not all, people have to choose between this or that, and in the end, they don't even get to choose.

They can discuss the pie in the sky, but then reality sets in.

Debt is a very slippery slope. Some pay each month the minimum on their credit card bill, as they increase the balance. It is hard to see the fallacy in this behavior, esp. since it worked last month, and last year, and... And in the end they'll either get that job they've dreamed of... or go bankrupt... or become "dust."

Is a new car the best deal? Or is it better to buy the worst half of the life of a car for 3/4 of the new price?  And by buying a new car they get to choose the color/model/accessories.

Money. We talk about money until we are red. The elephant? In the end we don't "make" money unless we are counterfeiters or the government. We exchange it. Tit for tat. We give a part of our life for it. And then we give it for some part of someone else's life. Or maybe for some part of the earth that someone "claimed." It is the game Monopoly except... we believe it.

More on Parenting

A teacher ed professor (who had been in the business a long time) once pointed out in a meeting that some researcher had good and bad teachers teach with all kinds of methodologies, and guess what? it didn't make a difference what teaching methodologies they used. Good teachers were successful and bad teachers were not.

In the same way, I suspect that some parents will hardly lift a finger for their kids, and others will do anything (and more). And (most importantly) some kids will do well and others will have a hard time. 

My mother gave a lecture about the rights of parents (50+ years ago). She was a strong believer that kids shouldn't rule their parents, and also that the parents need to listen to themselves rather than the "experts."

I feel like I'm sinking in this picture. And that the tar balls are all over... but they are kind of illuminators rather than poison.

Have a nice day!

Too Close

Robert Genn writes:
"Also, I want to mention the extreme expectations that current parents have for their children. Children have taken on a god-like role and have become the focus for everything from prepping for stellar futures to daily parental companionship. Parents sacrifice their own lives for the potential brilliance of kids. For better or for worse, raising kids well is the new religion."

My parents weren't into this, but a lot of today's parents are. They don't call it "indulging" but rather "love." A previous generation gave everything to the job. We really try to run ourselves ragged, don't we? Why?

Did you know that sometimes octopuses (there are three plural forms of the word octopus — octopi, optopuses, and octopodes)  die of nervous exhaustion?