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?

Innocent!

Judge: So you think you are innocent, huh?

Joe: Yea, until proven guilty.

Prosecutor: Did you steal that donut?

Joe: Innocent.

Prosecutor: Until proven guilty?

Joe: Yea. What do you think, I'm an expert on the law?

Judge: You know right from wrong, don't ya?

Joe: Right from left, on a good day.

Prosecutor: Do you frequent donut shops?

Joe: Doesn't everyone?

Judge: Please answer the question directly.

Joe: Frequently.

Prosecutor: This tape shows you putting a donut in your pocket? Did you do that?

Joe: Innocent.

Judge: Until proven guilty. Dismissed!

P.S. I woke up in the middle of the night with the fallacy here. The phrase is: "presume innocent." It is not to say that you are "innocent until proven guilty" but rather presumed, which is almost like... "no matter whether you are innocent or guilty, we will assume for now that you are innocent."

Getting Hitched

Last night at Mother's (our favorite veggie restaurant slowly not becoming our favorite) we were talking about whether we should eliminate weddings and just have civil unions between any two (or more?) people (or even between a person and their pet(s)). Linda suggested that churches could do weddings, but the state would just do civil unions. I agreed (which doesn't make a great conversation, does it?). I'm taking a course in improv comedy and we are learning that agreement is essential to good dialogue. I am more prone to disagree that must come from get bored too quickly (or maybe it is just that I hear the beat of a different drummer). I remember a friend telling me in college "if two people think the same thing there is only need for one of them" (she's still a friend).

In any case, with my daughter getting engaged, I started wondering (outloud) why do people get married anyway? It seems curious that we seem to be hardwired to go along certain paths, some of which are not always that easy. We grow up thinking we'll go to college, get a career, get married, have kids, see the kids get married, and say "congratulations."

Why? Why don't we say "congratulations" to someone who decides to live on the street? Why do we believe that there is but one path. Is there only one way to live life, and if you don't follow that path then something is wrong with you?

As I looked around the restaurant, I started to see everyone being driven by their primal needs and desires. They were eating (hopefully because they were hungry), they were going to the restroom (supposedly to eliminate), they were dressed attractively (perhaps to sexually titillate others), and they were talking (perhaps in anticipation of some sexual union). And then there is the exchange of food for money (what is that about?).

What is all this about?

It is so interesting that we haven't progressed much from the first humans on earth. Our technology provides countless comforts and conveniences. But what is really different?

Just wondering...

For whom did I vote in 2008?

Engaged

I don't remember. Sometimes people say this because they are ashamed or embarrassed.  With me it is not the case. And sometimes people know the name of the person who they voted for, but the candidate changed so much pre to post election that they can honestly don't know for whom they had voted. That also is not the problem, though we haven't "had" many of the presidents that kept their promises.

I was torn between three candidates. One had great charisma and came from my old neighborhood. His kids even went to my grade school. It seemed like he'd be a real president and that he'd bring the country together. And he would get us out of wars. The second seemed to share my idea that the government that does the least rules the best. I agreed with him (though politically incorrect) that our economy was fundamentally sound. But I didn't like his anger or his sarcasm. The third candidate shared many of my views (I'm a libertarian with a small "l"), but he was unlikely to win. So voting for him was (for me) throwing a vote away.

As you see, I was totally undecided, and I saw no good way to decide, other than to go to the polls at the end of the day, going into the poll booth and vote. I don't even remember whether it was electronic voting or one of those punch the hole deals. (Excuse: I was also dealing with a job with numerous responsibilities and voting was not one of my top priorities.) And would my vote matter? Though there have been some significant elections where one vote made a difference (like the first time Hitler was elected into his first position of power), I didn't think (in my heart) that my vote would make much of a difference.

Late in the day I went to the St. Louis nursing home down the street where we did our voting. Or it could have even been in Austin (according to my wife). That's how little I remember. No... I just got a "visual." It was the nursing home. Maybe I should have been a resident?

The guy in front of me (or maybe behind me) and I started talking. (I love to start conversations when I'm waiting in line). Totally improperly, I asked him for whom was he going to vote. He told me some story about how his overtime was taken away from him and one of candidates, if elected, would restore the candidate. I suspect that must have been Mr. Obama.

I remember thinking that it wouldn't make a hill of beans difference to me who won, but it might bring more money to this kid if his candidate won. And maybe he had a sick kid who needed some operation... etc.

So I went into the polling booth... and that's where my memory ends. My only chance to remember might be to go to a hypnotist.

And now this all brings up another question. What would I do now? Subject for another post.

Consuelo's in Austin

Movie: Modify

Available on Netflix Instant View. Unbelievable!!!!!

Morality

How does a moral person behave? I've often heard that capitalism is immoral because it chooses profit over the common good. Communism, on the other hand, is moral, because workers are paid according to their needs. And yet we bask in the benefits of capitalism, using our "profits" to buy bigger houses and cars.

If there is a heaven and hell, one might think that the profiteers would go to hell and those that put the public good first would go to heaven. I know a hard working plumber named Frank. He charges a fair price and does a good job because he knows that a good reputation is his best chance for success. He takes his money and buys a boat and clothes for his wife. Frank doesn't give a hoot for the underdog. And he makes sure that his plumbing works, because he doesn't want to be called back to do the same job twice. Is he a moral person? Frank never gives a penny to charity. Frank doesn't even care if the underprivileged get food or shelter.

Where will Frank go when he dies? Yet, when Frank does his good work, people consider him a "godsend."

I know another plumber named Joe. He goes to church every Sunday and gives 1/10 of his income to the church. Joe is a "first class slob." Most of the jobs he does need to be redone by Frank. His church tells him that he is a moral person and that heaven is assured because of his tithing. Is it?

Do we choose vendors (restaurants, barbers, mechanics) because they are moral, or because they do a good job? Do we really care that their mission is to make money (and the more the merrier)? Could the world function without any "morality" or "compassion"?

Argument

I just watched Michael Moore's Capitalism: A Love Story and was glad to know that we do have a good alternative to capitalism (democracy). How exactly this would play out is left, I suspect, to Michael's next blockbuster.

My neighbor said that he thought the only problem with capitalism is that it isn't alway moral and that what we need is moral capitalism, where profit isn't the main goal. This seems a little like phone sex, or maybe phone sex where you talk about nothing but the weather. The beauty of capitalism is that if you are focused on profit and your customer is a shopper, in the end both will be served well. Here is an interesting discussion on Morality and Capitalism.

So why did capitalism almost tank the country? Why did banks take risks that in hindsight looked foolish. Was this a fault of capitalism? Did the banks know that no one would let them fail? Did they play us to the hilt? I don't know.

Complaints

Are complaints on the other side of gratitude? Recently found myself getting upset about the small things: miso soup that tasted like dirty water, fire alarms that go off at 430am making our room flash like we were from Star Trek. Was it a matter that I had not eaten a wholesome meal for am few days, or that my wife was so startled by the flashing room that she hurt her back getting out of bed? So things were not the way I wanted them to be. Who said they were supposed to?

The oil leak has been stopped. What can I do with my wory brain now?

Saturday the priest talked about how we take it personally when bad things happen to us. The miso soup, obviously prepared especially for me, and the defective alarm system... obviously programmed for my wife's entertainment. So what happens when we realize that the bad stuff of life is not directed to us, but is just a product of "things as they are?" We'll see.

Note about picture: Worked a week on this with the ipad... then got frustrated that it was taking so long so I started working on it in Photoshop for another week.

Gravity is an Illusion

In this NYTimes article gravity is under suspicion of not really existing. Just to be sure about the ridiculousness of this idea, I picked up a pen on my desk, lifted it up a few inches, and then let go. It fell back to my desk. These guys are discussing this heretical topic.

M's Shadow and Haiti

He told me
that his shadow
wasn't him.

He sat
all weekend long
looking at his shadow,

and realized
he didn't know
at what
he was looking.

Was it him,
or was the light
surrounding the shadow,
him?

We look at ourselves.
Seemingly impossible
except
in a hall of mirrors.

Crazy stuff? Maybe.
And yet others
in Haiti
hold a cloth
over their kids' mouths

when the smelly diesel trucks
drive down the road
next to their tents.

There is so much
rubble
that if there were
1000 trucks
removing it every day,
it would take
two or three years
before it was gone.

(And there are
only 200-300 trucks.)

And some of us
try to figure out
if they are their shadow,
or the light
around their shadow,
or neither,
or both.

What would a
Martian
say?

More on Privilege and Busing

Yesterday I wrote about privilege, but I didn't post it because I was afraid I'd offend someone. The short guy on the basketball court has to be much better than the tall guy to keep from being benched.

And today I read about the current conditions in Haiti. It reminds me of the use of the continuum that we would use over and over again to describe situations in my last job at a college. Privilege is a continuum, with the displaced people in Haiti towards one end, and me towards the other end. Someone with little privilege has such a little chance to be thinking of much more than whether or not a car or truck will smash into their tent situated between two lanes of a road. For me, I had support all along, laced with both love and intelligence. I always had what I needed, and was only limited by my diligence.

Kate suggested in her comment to my last post "busing" (can be one "s" or two, in case you are interested). I remember that a number of kids were bused to my daughter's nearby (and then thriving) school. The school created special classes for the under prepared students, and in the mornings and afternoons these students always hung out together. Were they better off? Now they were in an environment where they were not as good as the others.

There are no simple solutions, but there are entire school districts who are able to close the achievement gap. Supposedly it takes three years of excellent teaching to make a difference for a kid. It is a slow process, and unfortunately, the success of "best practices" are sometimes hard to replicate. Years ago, one education professor told me about one study where both successful and unsuccessful teachers were told to employ a variety of strategies in their teaching. Guess what? The successful teachers continued to succeed, and the unsuccessful teachers did not.

Questions on Education

Kate raised so many questions in her last comment on my last post that I thought I'd give them a try.

I don’t ever recall taking out a loan for my K – 12 education. That is not the education cost we are talking about here is it? 

I was amazed to find out that in Washington DC over $13000 $25000 is being spent per K-12 student (the highest in the country) and yet the schools are failing. Kate, you are taking out a loan when schools fail. It costs everyone when kids grow up and are not productive. So there are loans and there are loans... and they all cost us money. See the article in the NYTimes 7/9/2010 for more on expenses in education.

I think people pay for that early education in various other ways, but they don’t take out a personal $50,000 loan for the first semester of 8th grade. So while I would agree that teaching in the public education system seems like a very demanding job, I don’t think students getting personal loans from a bank to pay for education is a better alternative than collecting taxes to fund a public system to which more people have access.

Much of the public system is failing. Some are working their hearts out to improve it. Another alternative is to dispense the funds to the students, and let them and their parents choose where they will go to school. Competition is needed in the school marketplace. Though I have to admit that some of the charter and voucher schools have not done as well as I expected.

I think it is good to ask why the cost of a college education is so high when it seems that the current job market more and more requires people to have this costly education in order to work. Why do we have to buy financial security? 

Should financial security be an entitlement? Even if a country could afford that, I'm not sure it would promote either happiness or any other worthwhile accomplishment. Do you?

I do not believe that the only way to cut the cost of college education is to cut teacher salaries. (You are really going to have to work to prove that one to me.) Why is it that our society can offer K-12 public education, but huge personal cost keeps people from higher education? 

Oh, it is not just teacher salaries. There are many administrators and other staff. Too many people on the payroll. State universities and community colleges are largely supported by taxpayers, as are K-12 public schools. I think loan programs are a great way to give everyone a chance to obtain higher degrees. 

Why do some colleges not accept federal funding available to students? Might there be benefit to a college if they push loans from a given financial institution even if they are not in the best interest of a student? 

I know nothing about this... unless you are talking about some for-profit trade schools.

In a way, college education is mirroring the housing market. You got these educational institutions that are selling knowledge at a relatively high price and one can only obtain this knowledge if one takes out a loan. In many cases, you don’t have a ton of options as to what kind of loan you can get because the school dictates that; just like reverse redlining dictates what kind of loan you have to get in order to obtain shelter in a given area. And these kinds of situations lead to loans that in many cases are inflated and ridiculous.

Community colleges are a good option for many. I hope that educational institutions do more than sell knowledge. Knowledge is everywhere. There is more knowledge than air. What the institutions should be "teaching" is how to put you finger up in the air and feel which way the wind is blowing.

Thanks Kate! 

Student Loans

Note: I wrote the following a couple of days ago. I mentioned to my wife what I had written and she (in her normal Zen way) let me know that I was taking sides, and that really there are good arguments for both sides. Of course she was right. Students will have to pay less which will make them happier (I guess), and banks will get smaller (which may make them more manageable in times like these). In any case, life is too complex to be certain about the effect of any action (dependent origination in Buddhism).

Uncle Sam (US) is now taking over student loans from banks. They will be still making a profit, and will put that profit into supporting community colleges and other educational institutions. And they will never raise loan rates when interest rates go up, like the banks do.

The article in the UT newspaper claimed this was a win-win situation for both US and the students... and the public at large.

The apparent brilliance of this act raised a number of questions in my mind. If Uncle Sam can run the student loan business more efficiently than banks, then could they also run most other businesses more efficiently as well? Clothing, home improvement stores, toys, art, oil drilling. What is their track record?

I assume that the banks will need less workers now that they aren't doing student loans. Will these workers now be hired by Uncle Sam? I assume too that the banks will not need bailing out again, given that one of their income sources has been curtailed.

If US is not able to actually run this loan business more efficiently then we must assume that they are (or will be) subsidizing it, especially when interest rates rise and loan rates do not. Is this still going to be a win-win-win situation?

Who are these brilliant business people who have shunned bank CEO wages to work for US? What do they know that people being paid 100x as much do not know?

There is an implication, as well, that banks have been "screwing" students with high interest rates. This message is bothersome to me, especially as we start to believe that banks and all other institutions that make a profit are in essence taking advantage of their clientele. The banking industry has provided the possibility for education for millions of kids. They have done countless good and should not be labeled a thief.

I suspect that, in the end, this program will cost the taxpayers untold dollars.

Can the US really charge less and still turn a profit? Can I jump over the moon?

The Blackboard

When I was in grammar school, I was slow to get my stuff together to go home and the janitor (they were called that then) would come in and with a sponge and a bucket of water would wash the blackboard. All the muck from the day would be gone, including all the chalk dust (except at the corners). Poof... just like that!

The Buddhists used to think of night as the beginning of the next day. And when we are born our minds are blank. As we live, our minds become repositories for all our numerous experiences. Loves come in and out and cements those experiences.

Then, at the end, we don't want to go home, so we take our time. Before we know it, the funny old janitor comes in and washes the blackboard. Our day's toil is now a clean slate.

Our tears for such a beautiful one ready us for another day... and another life.

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.