“I Want to be a Better Person.” “Really?”

Me?

Something feels wrong about trying to be a better person. We talk about changing a lightbulb but we really don't do that, rather, we replace it. Come to think of it, most of my life I've wanted to be someone else. A full replacement.

And that's sick!

I used to think that it would be cool to be Babe Ruth or Einstein, but they are both in pretty bad shape right now. So I’ll nix that idea.

Then there was Picasso. Yes, he was some artist, but some of his personal life wasn't very artful, and I'd hate that.

I guess this urge to be someone else is like playing hopscotch and wishing you were playing croquet. Is one game better than another? I don't think so.

So how do I go about life without being engulfed in fantasies and pipe dreams?  What does it take to just accept the cards I was dealt?

There are a few parts that couldn't be improved. I'd love the two inches back that I’ve shrunk. I'd love to be the athletic star that B was in high school though I wouldn't want his illness or bum leg. And this list goes on and on.

Someone this morning was saying he wouldn't get married because he only wanted someone he'd be super proud to be seen with. I didn't have the heart to tell him that beauty fades, even with seemingly perfect people.

So the remaining problem: should I get that one wish from a genie—who will I choose to become? Me?

—Kim Mosley

Dance With the Stars

The world isn’t the way I want it to be.
The world is just as it is.
What am I going to do about it? 

I mentioned that if someone wrote a screenplay about the world as it is, no one would believe it.

Then I started thinking about what the world might be like if it was how people would like it to be. I'd like to eliminate all the meat and candy from Central Market. And also all the wine. Who needs that stuff anyway? People just do the wrong thing when they drink.

But then D came by and he wanted peanuts… just peanuts, so then the world changed and CM had only peanuts. And so on. So that might really be crazy if things were how we’d like them to be.

Actually, in retrospect, our delusions often let us believe that the world is how we’d like it to be… for those incredibly short moments. Even today, I mentioned that I was 1/2 of my world. A crazy delusion!

Yesterday I was talking to T about the way it is, and he mentioned another aspect that I didn't even consider. What it is is not just what we read about in geology and biology textbooks. It is also how we feel about it. So I'm driving on Interstate 35 and there is lots of traffic. That is what is. And I'm feeling frazzled… mad, wishing that I had left a few hours earlier before all these people got out of bed. So "what is" is not just the traffic... it is my mind agonizing over what is. Imagine someone looking down onto Earth. Someone who only observes and doesn't react. She would see you and me and the cars... And we'd all be what is.

And then the tough question. What will I do about it? I can run, I can endure, or I can change. Or I can do nothing. Just sit there like a “bump on a log,” as my sisters would say when one of us wouldn't play.

There is an event coming soon that I would rather didn’t happen. I can avoid it, hoping it will just not be. I can go, but not really go, hoping that I can satisfy both the need to go and not go, or I can really go, fully embracing the situation authentically.

Complaining and disparaging might take place. Bad qi might permeate the space. Is that doing something about it? Or is it just wishing that things were different? And if things were just like we’d want them to be, would we like that? Or would we complain about that too?

My house is too small. No room for a ping pong table. Next day, when vacuuming, the house is too big. No time for anything but cleaning it. And on and on.

So I guess facing the music is all that I can do. I can embrace and embody things as they are. That's all we have to work with. I can observe it, and me within it, reacting, responding, hating or loving. I’m a half of what is... It is real to me, but not for you.

Do we live in the same place? Hardly. But we can meet somewhere, somehow, and dance with the stars.

Ten Preceptions (a.k.a. Be Nice)

Note: This was written for my second “taking of the precepts,” also called a Jukai ceremony. Some don’t do windows (glass and Microsoft). I don’t do assignments, so instead, I’m giving one pithy personal example for each of the precepts, as stated by the San Francisco Zen Center.

1. A disciple of Buddha does not kill but rather cultivates and encourages life. 

Gentle

Adults often tell 

kids what to do. 

When I took my 2 year old Nate 

to the park,

I let him lead 

and I just followed. 

Life and freedom 

feel interwoven. 

When Nate was the leader—

the explorer—

he became his own

person. 

He stood up

straight, and said,

“Grandpa, come follow 

me around the park.”

2. A disciple of Buddha does not take what is not given but rather cultivates and encourages generosity. 

Giver

I tore up the postage stamp 

that was not cancelled—

After rationalizing

many justifications. 

The use of the stamp 

had not been given 

to me. 

Though a nominal sum,

it was like a (single) vote 

in an election. 

One vote doesn’t matter 

until it joins 

another. And then 

we have, or have not, a post offices,

morgues, and bad karma.

Smiling equals generosity. 

suggesting to others:

something is right 

and see this joy in life.

I rarely say “no.”

I don’t see myself 

separated from others. 

I’ve been feeding chickens

and, against my vegan ethics,

ate a few of their eggs. 

Only for science,

was my excuse.

I felt my heart

open to them 

when I held two warm, 

recently minted,

and well-constructed

eggs in my hand. 

I cared about those chicks,

visiting them

between

feeding time. 

Were they ok? 

Did they have water? 

Was their gate latched

to keep out the coyote?

The neighbors’ garden hose 

and sprayer were leaking.

So I repaired them. 

“It needed to be done,”

said Mother Theresa,

and “Yes, I like to fix things,”

said Rube Goldberg.

Even things should 

not suffer, even if 

they are “inanimate.” 

3. A disciple of Buddha does not misuse sexuality but rather cultivates and encourages open and honest relationships. 

Desire

Sexuality is a force 

that drives us.

I thrive on open 

and honest relationships. 

When I’m opening up,

others tend to do that.

I’m challenged to moderate 

distance between myself 

and others. 

When should I speak

or not?

Linda was reading 

when I woke up 

this morning. Do I 

interrupt her and 

say good morning?

Does she know 

I’m feeling that? 

So I haven’t talked to her, 

realizing that she needs space 

after watching 

two-year old Nate

for four days. 

Sexuality is really 

connection and non-connection

for me. It is finding the space

between us.

4. A disciple of Buddha does not lie but rather cultivates and encourages truthful communication. 

Deceit

I lie. And

not only at night

in my bed.

It is another dance,

knowing when to talk

and when to shut up.

I read the book

on Honest. You’d

think that would have 

been enough.

How much truth

do you want? 

How much can

our relationship

sustain?

What should I overlook,

even when I can’?

When I ask,

should I tell the truth?

You say yes,

and (soon) regret it.

Is that why, T.S. Eliot, 

“the women come and go

talking of Michelangelo”?

5. A disciple of Buddha does not intoxicate self or others but rather cultivates and encourages clarity. 

Meth

My intoxicant is distraction… 

on the Internet, on Earth. 

Not saying no. 

Believing that I have unlimited time. 

Others appear to

have great focus. 

It takes me too long 

to finish things—

“driven to distraction.”

6. A disciple of Buddha does not slander others but rather cultivates and encourages respectful speech. 

Slander

I slander in my mind and in conversation.

And I did not know it. 

Am I supporting life? 

Yes, no lie here. 

But do I speak a belief 

as if it is the truth?

Usually.

Sometimes thinking that

the end justifies the means.

And even sometimes,

as I’m doing it,

I wish I wasn’t.

I just slandered my chicken friends,

calling them lazy,

because, 

after laying 13 eggs in two days,

they are taking a deserved

break. 

See, I used their 

human shortcomings, 

as justification,

for my slanderous tongue.

7. A disciple of Buddha does not praise self at the expense of others but rather cultivates and encourages self and others to abide in their awakened nature. 

Humble

I wonder when I bragged a little, 

telling how I was once this or that.

As I said it, I wondered

if I should have said,

what I did.

I wondered, too,

 if saying something

I had done 

would accomplish the end

in my mind?

If so, does that justify it?

Hardly.

8. A disciple of Buddha is not possessive of anything but rather cultivates and encourages mutual support. 

Mine!

What do I own that was only mine?

Shouldn’t Iacknowledge 

where it came from?

Is it really mine 

when I depend on you

to protect it 

and be with it 

and invent it 

and…?

I say “my computer.” Ha. 

What did I do 

to help it 

come into my world?

9. A disciple of Buddha does not harbor ill-will but rather cultivates and encourages lovingkindness and understanding. 

Spite

Somedays I feel like pinching people,

for no reason except I felt pinched

yesterday or the day before.

I know it is silly, 

because pinching will never

break the pattern.

Smiling would be 

a whole lot better.

Stop pinching 

even if it seems warranted.

As humans are precious, 

pinching is never warranted…

even if it is so easy

when the target appears 

to beg for it.

10. A disciple of Buddha does not abuse the Three Treasures but rather cultivates and encourages awakening, the path and teaching of awakening and the community that takes refuge in awakening. 

Nurturing

As he said we need

to take care of things,

he put his holy book

into a puddle of soda.

I felt wounded, 

wanting to snatch

the book away,

and save her

from that 

indelible stain.

++++++++++

Personal Spiritual Ancestors:

Note: I have no idea what spiritual means, but I’ll try.

People who gave me broken machines to take apart so could figure out how they worked.

My grandpa, who let me fix stuff and who believed in me.

My grandma, who told me continually about her brother the rabbi… and whose love of music inspired me to do art.

My neighbors who went to church and had a stained glass window in their living room (in the wall with electric lights behind).

My first art teacher, Robert Erickson, who recognized something in me and gave me permission to break rules.

A philosophy teacher Joseph Agassi who let us explore and be scholars instead of students.

Two art teachers in college (and many others), Peter Bodnar and Art Sinsabaugh, who believed in me.

My Rin Tin Tin dog, Blackbeard, who found me and stuck around for ten years.

Kids and Grandkids, Josh, Melissa Jasper, Dash, Charlie and Nate, who taught me so much, esp. that other people, even kids, are there own people.

My wife, Linda, who calmly stuck around, told me the truth, and made everything she touched turn beautiful. 

Hans, Francois, and Susan, who have been friends for most of my life, who were there over and over again.

Carl Jerome, my first Zen/Chan teacher, who tried so hard to move me from my discursive mind to my wisdom-heart.

Countless sentients who gave me so much, and were around at just the right time, challenging me so much.

Smile!

”A ferocious troll sat under a bridge with his laptop, and when the villagers concurred, “Let’s give money to this wonderful cause,” the troll yelled, “Get off your ass and go volunteer in your community!” And when the villagers said, “Let’s go volunteer in our community,” the troll yelled “F..k Youuuuuuu!” And when the villagers said, “That’s not a nice thing to say, the troll yelled, “Free speech!” And the villagers tried reasoning, and shaming, and yelling back. But nothing stopped the troll. Until one day, the troll said, “You’re a f..king moron and I hate your children!!!!,” and the villagers said, “Hi there, Mr. Troll. We love you. What a fine use of exclamation points!” and the troll got confused for a while until he realized it felt quite good to be loved, and he moved into a cheery house with yellow curtains and got a nice big dog.“ —Emma Skogstad

++++++++++

My daughter taught 2nd grade and she'd tell her students that in the 2nd grade we are nice to each other. 

Imagine what a world would look like if people were nice to each other. If people smiled. I used to go to Trader Joes in St. Louis if I had a hard day at work because the check out clerks were always so nice. 

Once I took a seminar in how to deal with difficult people. I remember two things I learned. One was that people are different. For example, some people like surprises and others don't. Expecting that people are like you doesn't work. The second was that even if a person is difficult, you can find a nice side in them, and you can address that.

One teacher called us all Mr and Ms with our last names. He expected us to be professionals. And we tried.

I think we are especially struck today because of people in the news who aren't very nice to others. A friend has an X who isn't very nice to her. I told her to smile. How could one be mean to someone who is smiling?

My daughter asked me to make her a painting with the word smile. I have it almost finished. I started it about 15 years ago. But she reminds me, every time the painting shows up. Today I found it, again.

Smile. Be nice to the troll and find a way of complimenting him, even if it is the number of exclamation marks he uses. I guess this must have been a text message conversation, because how would they know how many explanation marks he used. 

Smile. And he had lots of typos which I corrected. I wrote Emma and told her I corrected them, and she said that trolls make a lot of mistakes. I didn't get that earlier, thinking he was saying rather than typing. But now I get it. 

Smile. I had an aunt who told me that everyone who worked for her was incredible. I knew she had the knack for bringing out the best in people. When I hear a teacher talk about the great class they have this year, I suspect that it is more about what they elicit in the students than the students themselves.

Smile! Smile! Just Smile! Let the trolls know you love them and they won't be trolls anymore. Smile.

And keep smiling!

—Kim Mosley

Proposed Litmus Test

Trump’s idea of only letting people into America who pass a litmus test is interesting to me.

To become a citizen, you are tested on what you know. Here are sample questions. And I believe you have to “pledge allegiance.” How does what you know contrast to what you believe? Are there beliefs that are un-American? Is that what McCarthy was about? I realize that becoming an immigrant and becoming a citizen are different. Yet being an immigrant is the first step toward becoming a naturalized citizen.

Imagine that you wanted to limit how many people could immigrate to the US in a given year? How might you decide? Would it be first come, first served? Would it be a lottery? Would it be to only allow those that have a means of support? Would it be based on what they believe? Or what they know?

Is it un-American to believe that the constitution should be changed? Is any belief “un-American”?

Sometimes it appears that too many people live in Austin, TX. The infrastructure (esp. the highways) cannot support its current population. We limit how many people should go into an elevator or a restaurant. Should we limit how many people can move to a city… or a country?

One more question: Is it possible to think about these questions without becoming triggered? Can we have a belief that doesn’t make opposing beliefs “wrong”?

Listen to Everyone and Believe Noone

One of my favorite teachers would say, “Listen to everyone and believe noone.”

This was never so true as when I hitchhiked with a German Shepard to visit Linda in Elgin, Illinois (before we were married). People picked me up and chastised me for being so stupid for hitchhiking with a German Shepard. “How could you be so stupid to think than anyone would pick you up?“ they would say. And once we got past that, they were all very nice people.

There was one couple in a VW Bug who stopped to pick me up, and then realized their back seat was filled with stuff and they had no room for me. But their heart was in the right place.

A state trooper picked me up. Again, he scolded me and then we had a friendly talk as he drove me for many miles.

Today someone said, “No one wants to watch a 50-minute video of a class.” My mind goes back to that summer of 1969. I know that’s the conventional advice… and I also know to believe no one.

I like better to remember that “the proof is in the pudding.”

Totally Confused

I kept imagining a timeline, with a moment in the middle, and the past and present on either sides—each as long as the other. I'm in the middle now. I’ll always be in middle.

I asked a physicist once where I was in the universe. “Was I in the center?” “No,” he said, “you are more like a 1/3 of the way in or out....” I don't remember which.

Well, that's space... And, like time, it defines where we are. 

It worried me thinking about dementia the other day. I don’t want to throw away my past or future. I want it all. The richness of a given situation seems to depend on what we can bring to it, and what we can take away.

I took a mindfulness workshop many years ago. I asked a young monk if you could be in the moment and think about the past. He talked on and on. I "got" that you could, but didn't understand what he was saying. 

So what is the difference between daydreaming, and “being here now” thinking of the good old Beach Boys? Is one state more “present” than the other. 

It is costly to be asleep. There was a $20 bill lying in the street that I missed while I was seduced by a pile of trash someone had thrown out. Someone else found the $20 and asked me if it was mine. “No,” I regretfully had to answer.

In a daydream am I in my daydream? What is so bad about sitting on a couch and thinking of some rich moment in the past, or yearning to fulfill some fantasy in the future. I could even use the meat argument... that God wouldn't have made chickens if we weren't suppose to eat them (God wouldn’t give us fantasies if we weren’t meant to fulfill them). 

I told my wife that when you enter the Buddhist stream, you become fully enlightened in no more than seven years. “Who makes up this stuff?” she asked. “I don't know,” I answered. Maybe seven is a code word for someday. 

I marvel at race car drivers, gymnasts, and others who have demanding challenges. They need to concentrate 100% all the time. I heard of a Zen priest (Philip Whalen) who could do the same. He'd count his breaths to ten over and over again for each entire period of meditation. No daydreams there!