Paying attention provides the gift of noticing, and the gift of connecting. It provides the gift of seeing a little bit of ourselves in others, and of realizing that we’re not so awfully alone. It allows us to let go of the burden of so much of what we habitually carry with us, and receive the gift of the present moment.
-Sharon Salzberg, "A More Complete Attention"
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Walking in a Dark Alley
In the past several days I have been in a bit of a pressure cooker. Against all advice last year I ran for an elected position. I won. The position has turned into hell. Do you know how many people are willing to say I told you so in such a situation? A great number really. They usually begin with a “Thank you for serving, I would never do it, it is an untenable spot you are in.” The I told you so you come in the second burst of conversation after this.
Two nights ago I endured a public hearing where I was called a racist, was compared to a Nazi and was told I was the agent of white privilege. C’est la vie. I won’t take my time here to spout my leftist credentials but they exist. Okay I will spout them a little. I had my own “red” file back in the day when the state’s attorney general maintained them. I have my arm bands from numerous marches for equal rights. I studied equal protection from one of the drafters of the government’s brief in Brown vs. Board.
The core issue for me is one that is a much larger one than the particular battle I find myself caught up in. It is an issue of the stratification of class in America and our inability as a public to deal with that. We as a people have lost all perspective and it seems we have lost all our common sense as well. Somehow we have to deal with providing education to our children at a high level of quality, provide infrastructure for the conduct of civil society and care to those who cannot care for themselves. Raise taxes, cut spending, do one or the other, but don’t just let the issue sit.
I do believe that lobbying has screwed us up. Just saying. Both parties have claimed they were going to clean up the system in the past few rounds of elections but neither side has done squat.
One thought I return again and again is that maybe Vonnegut was right, as a nation we are too large. Maybe we should be divided up into a number of smaller countries that are more responsive to the individual needs of the geographic region’s peoples. Maybe not. Maybe the red state and blue state regions should divide and provide libertarian and socialistic governance styles to their respective approving populi. We could mutual commit to fund defense and interstate highways and not much else.
My choice that I am facing is to whether or not to close a school and if a school is closed to pick which one it will be. I will make a choice and live with the consequences because that is what people have elected me to do. Personally I think I have to vote to close a school, maybe more. Remember I am a socialist and this is a hard choice to make.
I don’t believe it is all for nothing it isn’t written on the wind to quote Jamie Robbie Robertson. We take on the job of public service because it needs to be done and because we all owe an obligation of public service to the commonwealth we reside in. Just because I make a decision that does not satisfy you doesn’t make me comparable to those who relocated the Jews of Europe to the death camps.
Now I have now gotten that off my chest. I will not speak of it again. Soon I will go back to ruminating on the ill advised adventures of my youth or perhaps the surreal moments of living with an ASD child, an unnaturally bright child and two demented cats. The vote is a few days off and so I may not be posting or e-mailing much before then.
Doing this job has really been turning me toward Buddhism. Today from the Tricycle’s daily motivation blurb I offer the following small part:
We can receive teachings on the nature of suffering, compassion, or emptiness, but when we sit down to practice, no one can show us how to integrate these teachings. What we end up doing with the wild and unruly character of our thoughts and emotions still remains a question for us. How we bring the practice to life is something personal, and it can’t be taught.
– Elizabeth Mattis-Namgyel, "The Power of an Open Question"
Two nights ago I endured a public hearing where I was called a racist, was compared to a Nazi and was told I was the agent of white privilege. C’est la vie. I won’t take my time here to spout my leftist credentials but they exist. Okay I will spout them a little. I had my own “red” file back in the day when the state’s attorney general maintained them. I have my arm bands from numerous marches for equal rights. I studied equal protection from one of the drafters of the government’s brief in Brown vs. Board.
The core issue for me is one that is a much larger one than the particular battle I find myself caught up in. It is an issue of the stratification of class in America and our inability as a public to deal with that. We as a people have lost all perspective and it seems we have lost all our common sense as well. Somehow we have to deal with providing education to our children at a high level of quality, provide infrastructure for the conduct of civil society and care to those who cannot care for themselves. Raise taxes, cut spending, do one or the other, but don’t just let the issue sit.
I do believe that lobbying has screwed us up. Just saying. Both parties have claimed they were going to clean up the system in the past few rounds of elections but neither side has done squat.
One thought I return again and again is that maybe Vonnegut was right, as a nation we are too large. Maybe we should be divided up into a number of smaller countries that are more responsive to the individual needs of the geographic region’s peoples. Maybe not. Maybe the red state and blue state regions should divide and provide libertarian and socialistic governance styles to their respective approving populi. We could mutual commit to fund defense and interstate highways and not much else.
My choice that I am facing is to whether or not to close a school and if a school is closed to pick which one it will be. I will make a choice and live with the consequences because that is what people have elected me to do. Personally I think I have to vote to close a school, maybe more. Remember I am a socialist and this is a hard choice to make.
I don’t believe it is all for nothing it isn’t written on the wind to quote Jamie Robbie Robertson. We take on the job of public service because it needs to be done and because we all owe an obligation of public service to the commonwealth we reside in. Just because I make a decision that does not satisfy you doesn’t make me comparable to those who relocated the Jews of Europe to the death camps.
Now I have now gotten that off my chest. I will not speak of it again. Soon I will go back to ruminating on the ill advised adventures of my youth or perhaps the surreal moments of living with an ASD child, an unnaturally bright child and two demented cats. The vote is a few days off and so I may not be posting or e-mailing much before then.
Doing this job has really been turning me toward Buddhism. Today from the Tricycle’s daily motivation blurb I offer the following small part:
We can receive teachings on the nature of suffering, compassion, or emptiness, but when we sit down to practice, no one can show us how to integrate these teachings. What we end up doing with the wild and unruly character of our thoughts and emotions still remains a question for us. How we bring the practice to life is something personal, and it can’t be taught.
– Elizabeth Mattis-Namgyel, "The Power of an Open Question"
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A Darn Good Quote on Religion
I recieve a daily comment from Tricycle a quarterly periodical on Buddhism with a tie to how American approach this "faith". Today's quote was:
Right Speech and Religious Diversity
Right speech is a vast, important topic in Buddhist training, and nowhere is it more important than in delicate conversations across religious lines. In our current context, arguments or debates about religion are counterproductive and only produce more sorrow and anguish. As Buddhists, we want to avoid participating in or contributing to the contentious atmosphere that permeates much public discourse about religious diversity
I liked this quote but it was in the comments section I found this quote and I really like it. Thus I share.
Let us never forget that the purpose of all religious techniques should be about liberating ourselves from suffering. Which tradition or traditions they come from are largely irrelevant, as the teaching itself will either hold water and be adopted or not and be discarded. The whole where it came from and who thought of the technique first debate is interesting intellectually but from a skillful means perspective is largely irrelevant. Does the man dying of thirst question the religious pedigree of the water before, probably not or he dies.
Buddhabrats
Right Speech and Religious Diversity
Right speech is a vast, important topic in Buddhist training, and nowhere is it more important than in delicate conversations across religious lines. In our current context, arguments or debates about religion are counterproductive and only produce more sorrow and anguish. As Buddhists, we want to avoid participating in or contributing to the contentious atmosphere that permeates much public discourse about religious diversity
I liked this quote but it was in the comments section I found this quote and I really like it. Thus I share.
Let us never forget that the purpose of all religious techniques should be about liberating ourselves from suffering. Which tradition or traditions they come from are largely irrelevant, as the teaching itself will either hold water and be adopted or not and be discarded. The whole where it came from and who thought of the technique first debate is interesting intellectually but from a skillful means perspective is largely irrelevant. Does the man dying of thirst question the religious pedigree of the water before, probably not or he dies.
Buddhabrats
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The Boy Abroad-For a Day
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The mysteries of the teenage mind or otherwise; they so define the changing being that is my son. There are so different from the mysteries of the minds of the old.
Primus was placed on a bus this morning to head off to Stratford, ON to see Richard III by Wm. Shakespeare. It was part of a high school English class boondoggle. Primus has been to Stratford on many occasions. Into his pocket I shoved $25 CDN and gave him advice on the exchange rate. We are on the losing side of that proposition right now.
Despite his numerous stops in Stratford he had no clue as to where he was headed. I mentioned the odd five point intersection. No recall. I mentioned the high street and the river street and the stairs that ran from one to another betwixt the store facades. Nope that didn’t jog any remembrance. It was not until I mentioned two places, the science store Quark Soup and the toy store with the bugs and air cannons. Restaurants, ice cream stores, etc., did not jog the memories but a toy store that sold some miniature plastic ants and a science store where he bought a plushie of the mad cow pathogen these illuminated his memory. At that point he knew the place.
It was at this point he did remember the lamb curry they served in Bentley’s. Ah the synapses must first be fired by the joys of toys and then the food memories come back. Although I didn’t think of it until know if I had mentioned the fine china shop with the five or six cats that roam freely among the plates and tureens that too might have awaked him to a sense of place.
I am old. The stars by which I steer and remember the paths of my journeys are restaurants and pubs where good repast was had or museums and places deemed by others mostly to have “significance”. My son is young and he steers by reminiscences of simpler joys.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Autism-A Starting Point for Parents
I am attaching below a link to a website tied to Michigan State University's ASD-Michigan Project. It is a good starting point to find resources to help face the challenges of Autism.
http://autism.educ.msu.edu/parents.html
http://autism.educ.msu.edu/parents.html
It is important to realize that Autism Spectrum Disorder is a growing reality for many Americans. Teachers, educators, parents, coaches, the police and people in every walk of life need to be aware of and be proactive in dealing with ASD persons. If you are a parent and suspect your child is on the spectrum follow up. If you are a person in a position of authority over such a child, educate yourself. The impact on your life and theirs will be immense.
http://www.lansingstatejournal.com/article/20110913/NEWS05/109130313/MSU-study-Autistic-students-needs-sometimes-overlooked
http://www.lansingstatejournal.com/article/20110913/NEWS05/109130313/MSU-study-Autistic-students-needs-sometimes-overlooked
Hope Brought by Song
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
On the way into work today I was listening to K.D. Lang sing. It was beautiful. I will post the link below of the song that I was hearing. Methinks I will also post the lyrics because they are so hopeful, so right for a moment with so many dark currents swirling about.
The music came from Hymns of the 49th Parallel. So moving, so wonderful are the tunes contained on this shiny round piece of plastic that the dashboard of my car swallows and then aurally renders. The four song cycle that this song sits in the middle of includes, After the Goldrush, Simple, Helpless and I Could Drink a Case of You. All of these songs are wistful, longing, romantic and ultimately hopeful. There is a shininess to them that lifts me out of any funk I might be in.
Three of the four of these songs were created by 1970 when the zeitgeist was a belief in unlimited possibility. It was a time when freedom, justice and love were the touchstones; well they were the watchwords at least. I think we did okay on the justice part but we really bungled it badly on how we handled the love and freedom part. Still, when I can tap into that moment as when a song like this and its mates touch those memories of the era I remember what we, what I was striving for. When I feel that feeling again it is easier to face a day filled with the petty grievances, the failed schemes, the greed and the myopia that so surrounds us.
Motivated by a lyric sung high and hopeful I can focus again on love and justice and freedom in a world that seems to have lost its way.
Flawless light in a darkening air
Alone...and shining there
Love will not elude you
Love is simple
I worship this tenacity
And the beautiful struggle we’re in
Love will not elude us
Love is simple
Be sure to know that
All in love
Is ours
And love, as a philosophy
Is simple
I am calm in oblivion
Calm, as I ever have been
Love will not elude me
Love is simple
Be sure to know that
All in love
Is ours...
Is ours...
That all in love
Is ours
And love, as philosophy
Is simple...
And ours...
Monday, September 12, 2011
Manic Day
Monday, September 12, 2011
I can hear the lyrics of that Prince penned tune ringing in my ears, “Just another manic Monday…”
Starting the working week is like practicing for an imminent disaster at my house. Lunches are being shoved into bags, people are asking for coffee stat and books and papers are being sought out with frenzy. Freshman, Junior, Director of Marketing and lawyer; all are running about searching, packing and ranting. I don’t think we all actually sit at the table for breakfast at the same time. Might be an overlap occasionally but it is not something that usually happens.
My commitment to the American way, my valiant effort, is to insure that Monday’s breakfast is a decent one. My wife this morning got grits with cheddar cheese and heirloom tomatoes mixed. Secundus received dry toast and a bowl of raspberry applesauce (homemade) and Primus got a mini-melon fresh from the farmer’s market. I scooped out the seeds from that puppy and they are drying in a paper towel for next year. Me I had oatmeal with walnuts, currants and half and half. 3 of the 4 bleary eyed maniacs got black Kenyan coffee and one opted for milk.
The two moments of the weekend that stood out. First, while having dinner at a Chinese restaurant my oldest borrowed my iphone. When I told him to given it back after about 10 minutes he let me know he was in the middle of his physics homework. Apparently it is all math and all online. With the iphone’s scientific calculator and the web interface he was good to go. My how the world has changed, if the parents’ conversation turned boring do your physics homework online.
Second was the issue of the artistic temperament thing we have been dealing with. On Sunday I found out Secundus was trying out for a role in the Scottish play. Banquo, Duncan, McDuff would all be good parts. But as a frosh he might just get to be one of the assorted murderers. The way it came out was that he had an opportunity to audition for the MSU children’s choirs.
For years Secundus has wanted to be in the choir. But yesterday he seemed to just not care. ADHD/Depression whichever it is he was in a funk. In the end it came down to cajoling him by couching his audition as a dry run for auditioning for Mackers. While others were told the choir master would be in touch Secundus was accepted on the spot.
It is hard to watch a child with talent struggle so. To see why he was accepted so readily into the choir, see below.
I can hear the lyrics of that Prince penned tune ringing in my ears, “Just another manic Monday…”
Starting the working week is like practicing for an imminent disaster at my house. Lunches are being shoved into bags, people are asking for coffee stat and books and papers are being sought out with frenzy. Freshman, Junior, Director of Marketing and lawyer; all are running about searching, packing and ranting. I don’t think we all actually sit at the table for breakfast at the same time. Might be an overlap occasionally but it is not something that usually happens.
My commitment to the American way, my valiant effort, is to insure that Monday’s breakfast is a decent one. My wife this morning got grits with cheddar cheese and heirloom tomatoes mixed. Secundus received dry toast and a bowl of raspberry applesauce (homemade) and Primus got a mini-melon fresh from the farmer’s market. I scooped out the seeds from that puppy and they are drying in a paper towel for next year. Me I had oatmeal with walnuts, currants and half and half. 3 of the 4 bleary eyed maniacs got black Kenyan coffee and one opted for milk.
The two moments of the weekend that stood out. First, while having dinner at a Chinese restaurant my oldest borrowed my iphone. When I told him to given it back after about 10 minutes he let me know he was in the middle of his physics homework. Apparently it is all math and all online. With the iphone’s scientific calculator and the web interface he was good to go. My how the world has changed, if the parents’ conversation turned boring do your physics homework online.
Second was the issue of the artistic temperament thing we have been dealing with. On Sunday I found out Secundus was trying out for a role in the Scottish play. Banquo, Duncan, McDuff would all be good parts. But as a frosh he might just get to be one of the assorted murderers. The way it came out was that he had an opportunity to audition for the MSU children’s choirs.
For years Secundus has wanted to be in the choir. But yesterday he seemed to just not care. ADHD/Depression whichever it is he was in a funk. In the end it came down to cajoling him by couching his audition as a dry run for auditioning for Mackers. While others were told the choir master would be in touch Secundus was accepted on the spot.
It is hard to watch a child with talent struggle so. To see why he was accepted so readily into the choir, see below.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Dream
There are moments when I dream images of a café somewhere exotic.
This phantom bistro is probably not France; the language is too harsh too many consonants are crashing one into the other in the staccato speech I overhear. Also it is not France because it is at the end of what should be summer the air on my exposed skin is a little too crisp. Horse draw carts pass motorbikes on cobblestone streets. Little Vespa-like rides bob this way and that. Under a bit of an overcast sky I sit outdoors at a street side table and listen to the noise of life as it is building through the morning. My time here is measured in leisurely hours.
My assumption in this dream is that this is all taking place on a Sunday morning. Some people sweep in front of shops that are not opening today. The boulevard before me while broad is not packed with persons traveling too and fro, however it is not empty either. The auguries of traffic patterns aside what really makes me think it is Sunday is that there is a certain elegance to the dress of those who are passing. Maybe they are on there way to, or perhaps, from mass. Dark haired and swarthy of complexion wearing black suits and cream colored blouses the people here convey a firm and solid beauty.
Colors on the buildings have faded. Once this place must have been prosperous for marble arches can be found in many building entrance ways. The marble is dirty with soot and grit now but there is still the elegance of a dowager refusing to accede to her fall in status. The city is neatly kept if worn and tired.
The air smells of the nearness of large water. There is a cleansing from the saline quality the air acquires near the ocean. Perhaps that is why I am here. Could it be I have come for my health? Whatever the reason I am in this place I am alone as I sip strong coffee and eat a breakfast pastry. I read as I observe this world. What I am reading is old, a battered copy of The Return of the Native. I know I have read it before but maybe it was all that I could find in English here in this place.
Sipping the dark strong roast I hear a seagull. Looking up I see it soaring up and over the roof of the row of buildings across the boulevard. I hear other birds erupt into screeching once it has cleared the roof-line.
And then I am awake and the place is gone. I feel a sense of loss at waking.
This phantom bistro is probably not France; the language is too harsh too many consonants are crashing one into the other in the staccato speech I overhear. Also it is not France because it is at the end of what should be summer the air on my exposed skin is a little too crisp. Horse draw carts pass motorbikes on cobblestone streets. Little Vespa-like rides bob this way and that. Under a bit of an overcast sky I sit outdoors at a street side table and listen to the noise of life as it is building through the morning. My time here is measured in leisurely hours.
My assumption in this dream is that this is all taking place on a Sunday morning. Some people sweep in front of shops that are not opening today. The boulevard before me while broad is not packed with persons traveling too and fro, however it is not empty either. The auguries of traffic patterns aside what really makes me think it is Sunday is that there is a certain elegance to the dress of those who are passing. Maybe they are on there way to, or perhaps, from mass. Dark haired and swarthy of complexion wearing black suits and cream colored blouses the people here convey a firm and solid beauty.
Colors on the buildings have faded. Once this place must have been prosperous for marble arches can be found in many building entrance ways. The marble is dirty with soot and grit now but there is still the elegance of a dowager refusing to accede to her fall in status. The city is neatly kept if worn and tired.
The air smells of the nearness of large water. There is a cleansing from the saline quality the air acquires near the ocean. Perhaps that is why I am here. Could it be I have come for my health? Whatever the reason I am in this place I am alone as I sip strong coffee and eat a breakfast pastry. I read as I observe this world. What I am reading is old, a battered copy of The Return of the Native. I know I have read it before but maybe it was all that I could find in English here in this place.
Sipping the dark strong roast I hear a seagull. Looking up I see it soaring up and over the roof of the row of buildings across the boulevard. I hear other birds erupt into screeching once it has cleared the roof-line.
And then I am awake and the place is gone. I feel a sense of loss at waking.
Tumult in a Small Town
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Grey morning today. It seems warmish but the overall feel is one of melancholy. Fall is waiting just around the corner, waiting for the page to be ripped off my Dilbert comic of the day calendar. Some leaves have fallen but they are not enough to motivate me to do anything in the yard, not yet at least.
My life is filled with turmoil right now. Last year I ran for the school board. Little did I know I would be the swing vote on a number of issues. My last name has a consonant near the end of the alphabet and when vote time comes, I am the last in the roll call. Thus when the vote for the board president occurred I was the deciding vote. Again when the vote to close a school occurred I was the deciding vote.
Each of these votes was significant and I think the first vote has played a part in many of the decisions of the board since it occurred. I think the second vote being another 4-3 split had coloration from the first vote. It is a shame too. Everyone on the board has commitment to the welfare of our students but we all bring with us the resonating vibrations and emanations of experiences past.
Grey morning today. It seems warmish but the overall feel is one of melancholy. Fall is waiting just around the corner, waiting for the page to be ripped off my Dilbert comic of the day calendar. Some leaves have fallen but they are not enough to motivate me to do anything in the yard, not yet at least.
My life is filled with turmoil right now. Last year I ran for the school board. Little did I know I would be the swing vote on a number of issues. My last name has a consonant near the end of the alphabet and when vote time comes, I am the last in the roll call. Thus when the vote for the board president occurred I was the deciding vote. Again when the vote to close a school occurred I was the deciding vote.
Each of these votes was significant and I think the first vote has played a part in many of the decisions of the board since it occurred. I think the second vote being another 4-3 split had coloration from the first vote. It is a shame too. Everyone on the board has commitment to the welfare of our students but we all bring with us the resonating vibrations and emanations of experiences past.
Friday, September 9, 2011
An Axe was Found in the Barn amongst the Crates of Vienna Sausages and Vanilla Scented Candles. So was a Copy of Darwin's Origin of the Species
In Which Part Our Half Naked Hero Newly Arrived on the Scene Wearing Just Pajamas and Peanut Butter Obtains a Working Set of Correction Department Handcuffs
Zen practice isn’t about a special place or a special peace or something other than being with our life just as it is. It’s one of the hardest things for people to get: that my very difficulties in this very moment are the perfection. “What do you mean, they’re the perfection? I’m gong to practice and get rid of them!” No, we don’t have to get rid of them, but we must see their nature. The structure becomes thinner (or seems thinner); it gets lighter and occasionally we may crack a hole right through it.
Joko Beck, Everyday Zen p. 138
Last night I voted to close a school. It is a decision that has been percolating for a long, long time in my community. The decision was not easy; the vote was 4-3. The outcome was not satisfying. But life in these times in schools in every district across our country is not easy nor is it satisfying.
Our country is facing challenges brought about by our national myopia, greed on a scale not seen in generations (both individual and corporate) and by institutionalized hubris. While the dismal state of our economics seems to be the focus of the pols and the news dissemination services, our core communal morality is at risk. We collectively seem to have lost sight of values that were instrumental to our moving forward as a nation, as a people.
While those short statement set forth in the paragraphs above may sound conservative, I am not conservative by tea party or Republican standards. Duh. Not a xenophobe, homophobe, social Darwinist, libertarian, or a socialist (although I claim to be) I am merely an average citizen truly worried about what happens next.
I believe in some basic constructs:
• We should live within in our means,
• We should expect a solid effort from all of our citizens to the extent of their abilities,
• We should engage in democracy and not simply be observers on the sidelines,
• We should take care of those who cannot take care of themselves,
• Education is a core value,
• Taxes are not inherently evil,
• Taxes are not a panacea,
• We should accept people for who they are,
• No one has a right to a free ride,
• No one should be expected to carry more than they are able to,
• No one is entitled to privilege by some right of birth,
• The middle way or the golden mean, Buddha or Aristotle, is what we should be striving for, neither excess or deficiency, and
• We should live the golden rule.
Maybe a nation of 300+ million people is too large to be manageable. Maybe Kurt Vonnegut was right and we should be Balkanized, that is cut up into small countries. In a smaller nation state maybe a individual voice has a greater chance to be heard and individuals have a greater more direct stake in the outcome of political decision. I just don’t know.
Zen practice isn’t about a special place or a special peace or something other than being with our life just as it is. It’s one of the hardest things for people to get: that my very difficulties in this very moment are the perfection. “What do you mean, they’re the perfection? I’m gong to practice and get rid of them!” No, we don’t have to get rid of them, but we must see their nature. The structure becomes thinner (or seems thinner); it gets lighter and occasionally we may crack a hole right through it.
Joko Beck, Everyday Zen p. 138
Last night I voted to close a school. It is a decision that has been percolating for a long, long time in my community. The decision was not easy; the vote was 4-3. The outcome was not satisfying. But life in these times in schools in every district across our country is not easy nor is it satisfying.
Our country is facing challenges brought about by our national myopia, greed on a scale not seen in generations (both individual and corporate) and by institutionalized hubris. While the dismal state of our economics seems to be the focus of the pols and the news dissemination services, our core communal morality is at risk. We collectively seem to have lost sight of values that were instrumental to our moving forward as a nation, as a people.
While those short statement set forth in the paragraphs above may sound conservative, I am not conservative by tea party or Republican standards. Duh. Not a xenophobe, homophobe, social Darwinist, libertarian, or a socialist (although I claim to be) I am merely an average citizen truly worried about what happens next.
I believe in some basic constructs:
• We should live within in our means,
• We should expect a solid effort from all of our citizens to the extent of their abilities,
• We should engage in democracy and not simply be observers on the sidelines,
• We should take care of those who cannot take care of themselves,
• Education is a core value,
• Taxes are not inherently evil,
• Taxes are not a panacea,
• We should accept people for who they are,
• No one has a right to a free ride,
• No one should be expected to carry more than they are able to,
• No one is entitled to privilege by some right of birth,
• The middle way or the golden mean, Buddha or Aristotle, is what we should be striving for, neither excess or deficiency, and
• We should live the golden rule.
Maybe a nation of 300+ million people is too large to be manageable. Maybe Kurt Vonnegut was right and we should be Balkanized, that is cut up into small countries. In a smaller nation state maybe a individual voice has a greater chance to be heard and individuals have a greater more direct stake in the outcome of political decision. I just don’t know.
In Which Part Our Half Naked Hero Newly Arrived on the Scene Wearing Just Pajamas and Peanut Butter Obtains a Working Set of Correction Department Han
Zen practice isn’t about a special place or a special peace or something other than being with our life just as it is. It’s one of the hardest things for people to get: that my very difficulties in this very moment are the perfection. “What do you mean, they’re the perfection? I’m gong to practice and get rid of them!” No, we don’t have to get rid of them, but we must see their nature. The structure becomes thinner (or seems thinner); it gets lighter and occasionally we may crack a hole right through it.
Joko Beck, Everyday Zen p. 138
Acceptance is hard. For me it is a daily struggle. Last night was rough. More to follow in the next post.
Joko Beck, Everyday Zen p. 138
Acceptance is hard. For me it is a daily struggle. Last night was rough. More to follow in the next post.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Another Summer has Come and Gone
Monday, September 05, 2011
Labor Day in Michigan is like hand reaching out to a wall mounted light switch and flipping the switch down. Labor Day clicks off to summer invariably. Looking upward and to the west the sky is grey. Today the temperature will struggle to be in the sixties. Many days will follow like this.
As I took about a 40 minute walk through the town, empty now with those celebrating the holiday gone to points north, there were trees that had gone from green to red. So quickly the color will fill in the rest of what is green in the picture now with yellow and orange and dusky shades of brown. One day not too far off those colors will be gone and the trees will be bare. There may be a couple of warm days between now and mid-October but the switch has been flipped.
Journeys to apple orchards and hockey rinks await. The transition of clothing is coming too. First will be the hooded fleeced shells and light denim jackets. Next there will be the addition of a down vest to the ensemble. Shortly thereafter will come the use of gloves and hats. As early November rolls in the bulkier coats will come out of the closet. I joke not. Halloween is always a dicey proposition with the gear ranging from costume alone to full winter jacket over the clown outfit. Sleet, snow or Indian summer; October 31 can be any and all of these things.
Summer has vanished like a quick afternoon.
All the months of my life are now like fleeting hours. Just a moment ago I turned to do a few simple tasks and when I turned back from my work my life has flown by.
Labor Day in Michigan is like hand reaching out to a wall mounted light switch and flipping the switch down. Labor Day clicks off to summer invariably. Looking upward and to the west the sky is grey. Today the temperature will struggle to be in the sixties. Many days will follow like this.
As I took about a 40 minute walk through the town, empty now with those celebrating the holiday gone to points north, there were trees that had gone from green to red. So quickly the color will fill in the rest of what is green in the picture now with yellow and orange and dusky shades of brown. One day not too far off those colors will be gone and the trees will be bare. There may be a couple of warm days between now and mid-October but the switch has been flipped.
Journeys to apple orchards and hockey rinks await. The transition of clothing is coming too. First will be the hooded fleeced shells and light denim jackets. Next there will be the addition of a down vest to the ensemble. Shortly thereafter will come the use of gloves and hats. As early November rolls in the bulkier coats will come out of the closet. I joke not. Halloween is always a dicey proposition with the gear ranging from costume alone to full winter jacket over the clown outfit. Sleet, snow or Indian summer; October 31 can be any and all of these things.
Summer has vanished like a quick afternoon.
All the months of my life are now like fleeting hours. Just a moment ago I turned to do a few simple tasks and when I turned back from my work my life has flown by.
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