Making Art

We had a discussion the other day about practicing. In this case, it was "sitting." But I kept thinking about practicing art. And how Jerry Savage (one of my teachers) said that in ten years, only one out of a hundred art school graduates will still be making art.

I often hear from former students who aren't making art. They feel a little apologetic, and I sometimes think that I failed them.

And I think of John Cage, who was asked by his Buddhist teacher for a greater commitment and he said, no, he had promised his music teacher that he make music.

Most of the people who continue throughout their lifetime to make art are pretty good. They might have gotten that way through lots of practice, though maybe it was the other way around.

Today I was re-befriended on Facebook by my first art muse. She had grown up with parents as artists, so she had learned the ropes from birth. And now it is almost 50 years later. How time flies!

When the current Buddhist head teacher here was applying for the job, he said that we all practice perfectly. That's a common Zen statement (that we all are perfect). And the second part of it is that we could stand some improvement.

So why the guilt? We admire mechanical men who seem to be in control of everything. Yet, when push comes to shove, we might eat a second piece of pie, knowing that if we were better, we would have just enjoyed the first piece twice as much.

This week I built some shelves in my closet. It was something I've wanted to do for a couple of years. Art is like that. We admire people who are productive, yet sometimes we just procrastinate.  And sometimes we just repeat ourselves, making it look like we are still breathing (and fertile).

Any ideas here, anyone?

Lego Pencil in Corpus Christi

Nathan Sawaya, Art Museum of South Texas

Thanksgiving Drugs

I ate a piece of turkey. It was just a breast that was cooked so I didn't have a chance for any of that greasy skin. My mom used to tell me that I was goin' to hell in a hand basket. Maybe I would have if there had been greasy skin.

The surprising thing about the slice of turkey was that 1) it was good and 2) I instantly recognized the taste as if I had of eaten it yesterday. And 3) (don't tell) I had the urge to storm the fridge and eat the entire carcass and get grease all over my face. I guess it is time for Veggie Heaven or Mr. Natural (my favorite Austin veggie restaurants).

We spent the day with a blind dog who got around very well. He could even catch a bouncing ball!

And we moved forward on my daughter's wedding planning. Looks like things are shaping up nicely.

Happy Thanksgiving!

No Dogs Allowed

No Pets

Kim at Padre Island

To Turkey or not to Turkey

Seems like every Thanksgiving I wonder if I should eat turkey. I like turkey, esp. the greasy skin. So why don't I eat it?

I like too a number of other things walking the street. But I refrain.

So I've been thinking about whether not eating turkey is based on a principle of some kind, or whether it is just a rather arbitrary point on a continuum.

There is a famous bio-ethicist, Peter Singer, who won't sit at the table with people eating meat. There are probably others who won't sit at the table with such an extreme bio-ethicist, esp. one born the same year as I was.

So imagine a bowl of eye-ball soup, made with human eye-balls. The eyes look out at everyone at the table, and winks when someone is too obvious with their stares. Not many of us would sit at this table.

At the other end of the continuum, imagine a table of vegan fare, captured in the wild by Jainists who carefully sweep the path before they walk, making sure not to step on anything living. I suspect not many would eat at their restaurant, but who would object to anything that they serve? (Probably someone.)

So we are all somewhere on this slippery slope. Where do we draw the line? We don't eat the family dog, but we do eat the family chicken. I guess each of us has to decide for ourselves what we'll do or not do.

In the meantime, think twice before inviting Peter Singer to dinner.

Bodhisattva Vow

Some take the Bodhisattva vow to save all sentient beings. I have an uncomfortable feeling about this... partly from my experience, the other day, of sitting in the parking lot and marveling at all the good things ordinary non-bodhisattva beings have done. Then tonight, in my second favorite Mexican restaurant, I had a similar thought. Surrounded by things made either by beings trying to feed their mouths or kids, and food made from growing things, I didn't see any Bodhisattvas at work. Yet I saw goodness in everything I looked at...unintentional goodness. Or, maybe everyone is a bodhisattva. That must be why I love them so much.

Hard-wired Dana and the S.E.C.

In the NYTimes today I read, "The S.E.C. (Security and Exchange Commission) is considering making stock and insurance brokers put their customers' interests first."

Who could be against this rule? Maybe the stock and insurance brokers. Maybe me.

The problem, as I see it, is that it would encourage too much trust in these guys (and gals). And trust that has not been earned. I'd rather put it out there that stock and insurance brokers are very interested in making lots of money and you should expect that, and carefully chew on everything they tell you.

One of the best teachers I've know hated his job and just did it for the money. But he knew his stuff and knew how to teach. As long as the money came in, he did a great job.

Here's the original article by Milton Friedman where he wrote that the social responsibility of business is to make a profit. This is probably the most controversial and least understood statement that he made.

Continuing on the theme of dana (Buddhist for giving), I heard some interesting facts about ants yesterday.

1) They feel and smell through their feelers.

2) They have two eye sockets, each containing lots of eyes. (Imagine what things must look like!)

3) When they find food, they leave a scent trail so others can find it.

4) They have two stomachs, one for themselves and one for their buddies.

I wonder what we have that is for the benefit of all beings? Are we hard-wired for generosity? How?

Hello... it's not a Zen temple.

Hello...

I've been around a bunch of young kids lately... doing comedy theater. I'm surprised the extent to which they are hooked on smoking (various stuffs), drinking, and junk food. How is it that they have (or believe they have) indestructible bodies? What happens to all the evidence that none of this (esp. the drinking and pot) will enhance their performances?

Hello...

Am I just an old fuddy-duddy? I wake up each morning wanting to feel a little better than I feel. I would like to eat greasy ribs and pizza. But then I would have to deal with the effects of that, esp. throwing away clothes that still fit (though barely).

So I was asked to be part of a writer's group to work on some more sketches... and wrote back that I'd like to do that... but I didn't think the actors should drink before and during performances. I loved the way Liz Taylor pretended to be drunk, but it isn't so appealing to see people who can't stop laughing because they just had a little too much.

Good-bye...

Which is probably what my writing teacher will say to me, telling me that drinking is part of comedy. I told my wife about my note to her... and she said, "well, it's not a Zen temple!"

Talking to the Dead

J: Grandpa, can you talk to someone who is dead?

G: Yes. You just need to have the right service, and the right phone. And the dead need to have that too.

J: So you can.

G: Well, not really.

J: How come?

G: Well, we are waiting for you to build the phone and start the service.

J: Can I get started now?

G: Never a better moment than now.

J: How do I do it?

G: You'll just need to start at the beginning. But why do you want to talk to the dead?

J: I want to tell them what I want for Christmas.

G: Oh. You know that the Buddha wasn't interested is such matters. He thought that we had enough to do with the living.

J: But what did he know. Did he have Christmas?

G: You have a point there, smarty!

"I" or The Persistence of Memory

We pay a lot of attention to our memory. As we navigate through life, we access it frequently to figure out what we think about something. Or even, to determine what something is. Or, why?

We construct "I" from our memory. Not from facts, if there are any such things, but from an ever changing view of how we think it went down. Someone says, "who are you" and the wheels start turning. Let's see, I was an Eagle Scout, and I helped that woman who was drowning, and I went to Mid-Good U, and and and... That's "I." That's what, according to my 4-year old grandson, was constructed at the moment of conception. The delusion I carry around is that "I" that was intact from my beginning. And now "I" continue to live its life.

Imagine if my brain is switched with another person's. Who would "I" be then? I guess it would depend on who remembered what.

But not so fast. Memory includes what I've done and how I felt about that (yet invisibly stitched together). So I stepped on a nut and cracked it, perhaps curtailing its possibility to become a tree someday. I might just remember randomly crushing a nut... or I might remember crushing the nut... and feeling terrible about it. Then I might go to a psychoanalyst and pay $10000 to feel better about stepping on the nut. That would be a changed "I." Wouldn't it? Or maybe just an evolved "I."

When I retired, I wanted to awake one morning fresh. As a new "I." I wanted to face life and see what "I" might do, not based on any preconception or plan, but fresh. Today is a new day.

I haven't been able to do this. The baggage continues. As well, the memory says, you promised so and so you'd do this. Or, my memory says, "when you do that (or don't do that) you don't feel good about yourself." Goofy?

The Trust Dilemma

Not trusting anything or anyone certainly is no way to go through life. It is called "paranoia." That is why I like the idea of trusting that people will be as they are. Generally people will care first for their own paycheck, or at least for their own job. So a realtor who represents you will often (perhaps unconsciously) urge you to buy a more expensive house than you might need, because their commission is higher. And your trusted financial advisor will often advise you to buy and sell your assets because that's how she gets paid. There are exceptions, of course. I do know that the realtors and financial advisors who stay in business are often the ones who are as they are. They would rather take home a bigger check rather than a smaller one.

Are these bad people? Only if we expect them to have our self-interest first. They didn't get into these business so they could give money away. Our problem comes when we expect them to be our best friends. (As I say this, I feel gratitude for our fine realtor who brings us wonderful pies each Thanksgiving.)

I was surprised to hear a priest tell me that one of his biggest challenges is to attract a congregation. Here is a person committed to saving all beings (or some variation of that), and at the same time, focused on being fiscally responsible. A contradiction? Even zen temples have competition. May the best one win. (Did I hear something about "no gain?")

Milton Friedman insisted that we should eliminate the requirement that doctors are licensed. One of his reasons was to break up the monopoly of the AMA. But another was his belief that we don't pick doctors based on their license, but rather on their reputation. And if they don't perform well, there are the opportunity for civil suits. Will anyone hang out a shingle? Maybe. But will they have patients? We'll see. How is it that we trust our doctor (or not)?

Whom can you trust?

A magician puts $50 into an empty box, puts the lid on, and offers it to the audience for $20. He gets a taker, who discovers $1 in the box. Is this fraud? Should magic be regulated? Is a sucker born every minute?

I watched a recent documentary (Inside Job) on what is called a financial crisis. And, after feeling that some on Wall Street appeared a little shady, went to the grocery to get a prescription filled. I patiently walked the aisles (waiting for the filling of the prescription) only to discover that their computers were down and they didn't know what to charge me. The pharmacist said we could pick a number... like 20. I said I like 6. He said no so I left. (Note: when I got home I looked up the drug and saw that it should have cost me $35! I decided I wasn't worth that.)

Anyway, after hearing how fraudulent the Wall Street guys were (in the movie), I wondered if everyone is equally fraudulent, i.e. not really caring about their customer. I started looking at the cereals and reminded myself that they are selling very little nutrition (and lots of calories) for lots of money. Whom can you trust?

We do have government organizations watching over food. Food that is not our friend. Why do we think that the government will run (i.e. regulate) Wall Street any better?

There is an adage that if a deal is too good to be true, it probably is. Or that as interest increases, so does risk. Lots of people didn't watch what they were doing on Wall Street and got in trouble. Unfortunately some of those who probably deserved to get in trouble were able to exit smelling like roses.

Now, back to fraud. It is real, it does exist, and the awareness of fraud is the basis for making Wall Street honest. One problem with regulating (or over regulating) is that sometimes it justifies actions that shouldn't be justified.

Where did the beauty come from?

What is the transition between things as they are (with objects, molecular structures; with thoughts, bio-chemical reactions?) and things as they seem (happiness, joy, love, anger)?

I sit in a parking lot and see all these things. None made with anything but self-interest (perhaps). And yet, the things provide pleasure, opportunities for human interaction, joy, and sometimes negative emotions.

I have a couple of yogurt cartons on my desk filled with random objects (pliers, tweezers, knife, emery board, etc.) In one sense, these are just structures. And in another sense, they are dancers creating form, movement, and emotion.

At the moment of conception a life starts (maybe). We sense that was the beginning of "I." And yet what is the connection between I and the physical organism?

These are the questions I have that put me in a quandary. How can the two intertwined worlds coexist without any apparent connection to each other?

Tonight I heard that when the hands join in gassho it symbolizes the bringing together of the different parts of the body.

Maybe it is the delusion that things are what they seem that keeps us sane?

You put dumb old words on a piece of paper and you might have a "knock-out" poem. Where did the beauty come from?

Any ideas?

I'm Stuck

"What did your face look like before your parents were born?" is a zen koan that I've also heard as a question that a wise teacher asked to trip up a wise-ass student, "who were you before you were born."

I asked this to my four year-old grandson and learned that he is quite convinced that he has always been who he is. So then I asked, "at the moment of conception, when you were smaller than the head of a pin, were you who you are now?"

"Yes, he answered"

And at the moment right before conception, when you didn't exist, you were not who you are now...right?" He nodded "yes."

Buddhists believe this idea of a permanent "self" is one of our delusions. My grandson doesn't agree. But I didn't think it fitting for me to tell him an opposing view. He's got to figure this one out on his own.

And then there is this question. If "self" is created at the moment of conception, then does it disappear at the moment of death? He saw no problem with that idea. (We framed it in the context of the mice in his house that we were trying to send off to another world.)

And if you think this post is bad, you should thank me for not yet writing about the downfall of capitalism from a libertarian perspective, which is actually where I'm stuck.

Houston Contemporary

Ben Patterson-FLUX/us 50 years

Sarah Palin and NPR

I failed trying to explain how I love NPR and I also don't think the government should fund it. And it is partly out of that love that I worry that whoever holds the purse strings might dictate content. Why do some have such faith in government to do the right thing?

In the meantime, I went to a birthday party in New Jersey at Bounce U for my grandson's five year-old friend. I spent a while in the car while his little brother was finishing his nap. I thought about all the stuff I saw from the passenger seat of a car in a suburban parking lot... and how most all of it wasn't created out of love or generosity or loving kindness... but rather out of fairly selfish (Adam Smith used the word "domestic") aims.

 

Then I went to the party and actually slid down the slide and bounced around. I started wondering about all the life that was at this party. Where did it come from? It wasn't the product of people with only domestic aims. It was exhilarating... the noise, the exciting, the laughs. Wow! Wish I was five.

Philadelphia Mint

 

Read about mint.

On Race Street. 

Grandson's Laptop

Michelangelo Pistoletto

Michelangelo Pistoletto Exhibit at Philadelphia Museum of Art

Bodhisattva

Early 8th century.

Production

B=Boss, M=Me

B: I need to talk to you about your production.

M: Yea, boss. I knew you'd be proud.

B: Proud. You are as close to being fired as they get.

M: Fired. I've been making ducks like you wouldn't believe.

B: You don't even know what production is.

M: Yea, Boss, it PROvides DUCks to the world, and I have been faithfully doing that.

B: And I have warehouses filled with them. The world is saturated with ducks.

M: But do they have duck smart phones and duck sex toys?

B: When I go on my sales trips, I step out of my car and I see a "closed" sign appear on the door of every store. Right in front of my eyes. The sign goes on and the lights go out.

M: What is it that you want me to make?

B: Anything but ducks.

M: Ok, how about geese?

B: That's a leap.

M: Farther than more ducks.

B: Yea.

Panhandling

I received this email from R in response to some comments I made about those who hang around in parking lots in well-to-do neighborhoods and say they're run out of gas.

Thanks for your thoughtful questions about panhandling. I've wondered the same about our obligations. In general, when one parts with a gift, one should completely part with it (and not nag the recipient about how it's being used). I think we view our gifts to panhandlers differently, more like an investment - we don't personally reap the return, but we expect that the recipient will reap a certain kind of return (food, drink) and not something we deem frivolous (beer, smokes). This is especially true in cases where the money is solicited for a particular need, like gas to get home. If we learn the money's NOT used for gas, we have a right to be upset. If we give in response to a general request (like a guy at a traffic light), I think we have to be even more aware that we can't follow our money. We're trusting the recipient to do what he or she needs with it and to define that need.

What I've decided is to offer food to folks on the street corner, on the theory that without fuel, the brain can't make any other good decisions. I know this is true for me, so I assume it's true for others. Sometimes it gets turned down, which is fine. I appreciate the honesty. And I have tampons for the women.

"Can you spare some change" has morphed into "I live on 40th street and need some money for gas to get home." Yes, I think it is the dishonesty that gets us, though we know, or should know, that the subtext is the same.

I had concerns about the health care bill because it assumes that we know what someone else needs. The same with food stamps. Perhaps someone needs rent money more than health insurance. They might be very healthy, but living on the street. Health insurance might be the modern equivalent of "let them eat cake."

Once, in Chicago, someone asked me for some money for food. It was infront of a fast food restaurant, and I offered to buy him a hamburger. He said, "get loss." Recently I offered a very intelligent but homeless man a loaf of white bread. "No," he said, "I only eat high quality carbs." The Buddha supposedly died of bad pork that someone gave him. Did he know it was bad? Yes, but ate it so as to not insult the giver. Monks beg, supposedly, to give people an opportunity to give.

Doan (Zen Bell Ringer)

H=Her, M=Me

H: So you aren't perfect. Is that a reason to burn yourself in effigy?

M: No, far from it. But it is a reason to reevaluate my career options.

H: So what do you do as doan (Japanese: 堂行) that is so difficult?

M: I time the sitting and then I ring the bells during the zen service.

H: What can be hard about that?

M: Well, there are two bells... a big one and a small one.

H: Is that for big mind and little mind?

M: You're learning, but I doubt it, but kind of because the big bell is for the priest and the little bell is for everyone else. And in a sense you could say that the priest might represent big mind just a little more than someone who is not a priest, though I suspect that any priest worth his robe would deny that.

H: What can be hard about hitting a bell?

M: Only two things. Hitting the bell correctly... and... at the right time.

H: Is that all?

M: No. Hitting the bell the same way, time after time. And hitting it so that it makes music, and hitting it so that you aren't hitting it, but more dancing with it. And not day dreaming.

H: That's five things.

M: And hitting it in the right patterns.

H: How hard can that be?

M: Well, some people learn quickly. Obviously they were reincarnated from ancient bell ringers.

H: And you?

M: I was reincarnated from... I don't know. Something that didn't play the bells. Maybe a monkey or ape. Something that jumped around a lot.

H: Don't put yourself down. We don't want any hari kari.

M: Must be my genes that cause the problem. I could blame my age... but I think I'm learning new stuff as slowly as I ever did.

H: How do you know what bell to ring?

M: There is a schedule. But the chant is in Japanese... and I loose my place as quickly as you can say Jack Rabbit.

H: And when do you hit the small bell?

M: At the beginning and end of zazen, to indicate that the sangha should get ready to bow, to indicate that they should bow, to indicate that the chant is coming to the end, to indicate that it really is coming to the end.

H: And what about the big bell?

M: Oh, that indicates that the chant will soon start, that it will start now, that it started, that the priest has bowed to the mat or to the alter.

H: Is that all?

M: Pretty much!

H: Do you know how... but clutch and do it wrong?

M: All the time... well, almost all the time. But that's perfectly okay... I guess.

Funny Feelings and other Meanderings

It gives me a funny feeling voting a week before the election. Suppose I don't live that long. Would they still count my vote?

I'm in my second comedy class now (almost my third because I'm also "sitting in" on a class.) And I still don't know what makes something funny. But I do love the contrast to Zen, which isn't funny...yet. Maybe one day I'll figure out the humor there. What is funny about "Death comes unexpectedly, How can we bargain with it" (Bodhidharma)? Yikes, saying that is a little funny, especially as we are personifying death... and talking about "it" with a deep raspy voice.

If your dad acted like Archie Bunker you'd leave home as soon as you could. Yet, seeing your dad in Archie Bunker makes you laugh. What gives here? I saw a sketch the other night where a woman was a new clerk in some kind of government office, trying to be conscientious and nice to the public (lots of smiles), while at the same time enduring devastating criticism from the peanut gallery. She flipped back and forth between the two roles, entertaining the audience to the highest degree.

I had a strange thought today. What if I was okay just as I am? Not even perfect, as Buddhism teaches (though needing a little improvement)... but just okay... not needing to change or improve.

Geeze, we imagine that our heros (Robert Frost comes to mind) couldn't be any better that how they were or are. We couldn't imaging Robert Frost wanting to change who he was one iota (whatever "iota' is). But then we have all heard about revered accomplished people who carried around a lot of insecurity. I remember the story of Jane Fonda confessing to Katherine Hepburn how frightened she was on a set (especially on set with Katherine in On Golden Pond. Katherine Hepburn then told Jane how petrified also she was each time she walks onto a set...even that she'd often lose her lunch. So I don't know where this "okay" will take me. It is funny how we normally don't think others are not okay with who they are. They all put up such good fronts. And we love them for just as they are, not for something they might become.

If you buy a penny stock, you like it for what it might become (i.e. Sun, Ford, or Sprint). But the people we know and like are generally just right... for us, but sometimes not for them.

Now back to the voting thing that I'm going to over-think a little more. Not really, but I was thinking about a march for or about something (march for peace). If you have 1000 people, no one staying home makes a difference. And take pollution. It doesn't ruin the countryside if you throw your wrapper out the car window. Yet we don't do it (hopefully) because of the cumulative effect of everyone doing it. I eat something and leave a dish on the sink. It doesn't make the kitchen look like a pigsty. Or we eat one hamburger. Are we then responsible for the cows that create 20% of the world's pollution? And on and on. It is an honest to goodness quagmire... how all these minuscule acts add up to have such powerful consequences.

So what's wrong...

So what's wrong with a benevolent dictator? I'm not advocating such a thing but realize that most governments are a dictatorship, especially if you include families and businesses. And they are all benevolent. Just ask them!

Some argue that I should vote because if I didn't, no one would. Yet that isn't the case, is it? If someone is drowning in shark infested waters I don't need to jump in for the man to be saved. But someone does.

Which brings me back to the credit card dilemma. What is wrong with just paying the minimum? Imagine that the credit card had an unlimited cap and the death tax is 100%.. and one's heirs are not responsible for their debts. Why am I better off paying the minimum rather than the full amount. Yes, die with as much debt as possible. Isn't that what Uncle Sam does? Fortunately or unfortunately all my assumptions are unfounded.

Don't Vote...more questions.

Six people have encouraged me to vote in this election. In Texas, one is allowed to vote early without any explanation. The polling booths have been open for awhile. So, hoping the nudgings would go away, I complied. I feel like a  sucker though, led by the masses to believe that my vote will make a difference, when in reality it probably won't. And I'm especially despondent that I voted for a fix the roads bond issue that was advertised that it would not raise taxes. I told my wife about it and she gave me a gentle sucker look.

One of the persons, my friend Joan, assumed that all her Facebook friends would vote for Democrats. I wonder if she would have encouraged me, knowing that I might not.

One person promised that their favorite candidate wouldn't be the nasty fellow that he was appearing to be in the campaign... and that, when elected, he'd become an advocate for all things good.

A colleague, Buck, and I once had a discussion about voting. I said, "Rich (I didn't call him "Buck" to his face), suppose that there were three candidates, A, B, and C. A was a popular and evil contender. B was not a favorite, but had a chance to keep the evil contender out of office. and C was brilliant, but didn't have a chance. Who would you vote for?

I said that it would be a waste of a vote to choose C. He said one always had the responsibility to vote for whom they believe is the best candidate. I asked if you had a chance to keep Hitler from being elected (supposedly in the first election that he won, he did so with only one vote), would you vote for someone better but not your favorite. He said absolutely no.

So where do we get these rules? I'll do this, but not that. I won't fight a small battle to prevent a bigger battle. I won't get sell a stock because it might go higher. I won't engage in politics because it is corrupt.

What a breath of fresh air it would be if we could just look at new situations for what they are. My friend told me today that when we see something more information goes to our visual cortex from our brain than from the object. We don't really "see," do we? 

Which leads to another question, "how should I vote?" Most people would say that, given a choice of voting for someone who'd benefit the country or benefit themselves (but not both) they'd say that good people should vote for those who'd benefit the country. I'll have to ask Buck if that's what one should do. Imagine if everyone voted for their own benefit. Wouldn't the greater good ultimately be served?

Right Livelihood... Questions.

"Right Livelihood is, first, a way to earn a living without compromising the Precepts. It is a way of making a living that does no harm to others. In the Vanijja Sutta (this is from the Sutra-pitaka of the Tripitaka), the Buddha said, "A lay follower should not engage in five types of business. Which five? Business in weapons, business in human beings, business in meat, business in intoxicants, and business in poison."

Vietnamese Zen teacher Thich Nhat Hanh wrote,
"To practice Right Livelihood (samyag ajiva), you have to find a way to earn your living without transgressing your ideals of love and compassion. The way you support yourself can be an expression of your deepest self, or it can be a source of suffering for you and others. " ... Our vocation can nourish our understanding and compassion, or erode them. We should be awake to the consequences, far and near, of the way we earn our living." (The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching [Parallax Press, 1998], p. 104)

A friend of mine was quite judgmental about option traders, esp. the successful ones. He felt that they didn't really produce anything, so that they were evil.

I didn't agree with him, though I don't remember what argument I conjured up.

There seem to be two issues here. One is about resources. Is the option trader making the best use of his resources for the betterment of all things. Does one really need to do that? Does one only need to do that if they want to be a good person? The second issue is whether or not it is evil to make a living buying and selling for a profit. I knew a man, Lynn (RIP), who used to buy and sell forklifts. He never actually saw the forklifts. He'd buy them, sight unseen, and then sell them to someone, also sight unseen. Seems like forklifts can be judged by their age and hours of use. Was Lynn evil, making a living finding new homes for forklifts?

And suppose that Mother Theresa confessed that her motive in serving the poor was to earn a fine home in Heaven or maybe to earn some merit to be reborn as a buddha, while the owner of a casino ran his business to give joy and excitement to our lives (thus relieving suffering).

So much for suppositions. The Dalai Lama was asked if one should fight a small war to avoid a big war. I like his answer: that one never knows what will come from something else.

Dad, Promise You won't get Angry

D=Daughter, F=Father

D: Dad, promise you won't get angry.

F: Of course, an opportunity to broaden my Zen Practice.

D: Well, I'm in love with this man.

F: That's nice. What's his name?

D: Stan the Man.

F: His last name is Man?

D: I don't know his last name.

F: You just met him?

D: He wouldn't tell me his last name. He said we should trust each other without too much information being exchanged. I'm been "with him" for a year now.

F: You're not...

D: No Dad. We take the necessary...

F: What then.

D: You know your car?

F: Yes, sure do.

D: He borrowed it... and kind of disappeared.

F: Oh what a shame. I was going to give you that beauty, but then my mechanic told me the brakes were about shot and one day you wouldn't be able to stop it.

D: Dad...