Slouching towards Tibet

At left: Authentic Texas goat attempts to eat my camera.



Father Conner grew up in New Orleans, and used to tell us that as a child, he earned extra money from plugging and unplugging various lights and appliances during the Jewish Sabbath. The Orthodox Jews in his neighborhood didn't want to break the Sabbath rules, but still needed the lights on. Tsk! I would think, self-righteously. What kind of hypocrisy is that?

Likewise, on one of those cable networks, I saw how (so-called) high-caste Hindus employ low-caste Hindus to do their killing for them: vermin, bugs, whatever. In this way, the high-caste family doesn't take on the direct taboo of killing or exterminating, yet they still get the job done and get mice out of the house. Hmph! I thought similarly.

And in my arrogance and egotism, I guess I plumb forgot the rest of Father Conner's instruction, wherein he explained that this kinda thing was the human condition, and we all do it. (This is the genesis of the expression: having your cake and eating it too.) Today, a humongous ugly bug was outside my door, still alive despite being trapped inside our apartment building all night... and like always, I flung it over to Cyril, who happily munched away on it. I'm giving him protein, I told myself.

Father Conner came floating back into my memory, and I realized that I have been letting my cats kill bugs rather than do it myself, because yeah, I am trying to stop killing beings and all that good Buddhist stuff. Thus, I am exactly like the Jews and Hindus in the above stories. I am technically not "breaking the law".. but... well, yes I am.

((shame))

Bob Dylan, one of many in my private Greek chorus, bubbles up in my brain:

Not even you can hide
You see you're just like me
I hope you're satisfied

...

Will I ever be able to let the creepy-crawlies roam about in my abode, without rousting some sleeping feline and pointing their snout in the direction of the 6-or-8-legged entity, knowing they will leap upon it in kitty-joy? Munch, munch.

Ohhh, what a thought. Yes, I can easily participate in vegetarianism, even veganism, but when I think of bugs, snakes, vermin and other such gremlins? Makes my proverbial skin crawl. I can't let them in here. What will people think of me? Better to let the cats do it, as a sort of half-assed solution.

Just like those folks that had serious paperwork to do, but still wanted to keep the sabbath, so they enlisted little Herb Conner to plug their lights in and gave him quarters for tips. And everyone was happy.

My self-righteousness in check, I get it now. And I laugh at our common humanity and accompanying dilemmas.

~*~

And just when you thought it was safe to go back into the waters of Blogdonia (nostalgic, summertime JAWS reference, for the baby-boomers in my readership)...

A comment of mine was pointedly not approved on a blog yesterday. Certainly, I'm not surprised, since the blogger's friends really dislike me. But it was a good comment; pertinent, polite, duly linked and on topic. It wasn't approved because I am still persona non grata. ((frowny-face))

Caution: Daisy climbs soapbox. (Last chance; leave now!)

The Tea Party reminds me of something... I stick my finger in the air, remembering that you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows... and I remember THIS MOMENT. I remember the eve of Reaganism and the highly-charged political atmosphere of 1980. History and politics are cyclical. Deja Vu all over again. (In fact, continuing the historical comparison, I wouldn't be surprised if Obama is a one-termer, as Jimmy Carter was.)

And I am here to tell you: We cannot afford to be divided right now. As we were before.

I say this now to the young people, who have only known (as adults) the whole "Hope and Change" Obama-mantra... young people who think Dubya was a real right-winger (and you ain't seen nothing yet): We must come together. We do not have to agree on everything, but we MUST put aside differences and make political alliances. NOW. And these kinds of internal squabbles and petty grudges (I include my own) are a luxury; interpersonal fallout from being on the ascent. In about 5 years, the arguments will seem, well, rather silly. We will wonder why we didn't seize the moment and unite when we had the opportunity. And that window of opportunity will close. People you love will become Republicans, if they haven't already. People will convert to strict, austere religious sects that don't allow popular music. Weird shit will start happening and you will get scared, wondering if everything is going to hell in a handbasket.

To guard against despair, you need like-minded friends. And I offer myself as one.

Because I was there before, and I remember.

Just letting you know. When everyone suddenly seems to be on the Right, you will be heartily sorry for every sectarian snub, every missed chance to make common cause with lefties. Please put aside this cool-kids-clique-mentality NOW, because later, it will bite you in the ass in various and sundry ways, seen and unseen. The more diverse your involvements, the easier it will be to PIVOT (for lack of a better word) to a politically-expedient position when necessary. And the better off you will be.

If you back yourself into a strict, sectarian corner, huddled with only people like yourself who AGREE with you, then you very efficiently cut yourself off. You leave yourself extremely vulnerable in virtually every way. I know this from experience.

Please don't. Reconsider. If it is impossible for you to embrace ME, due to my cantankerous hippie ways, I can dig that... but please find other elder leftists or feminists, who remember the Reagan era and who can connect with you, giving you perspective and helping guide you through it.

I come in peace. Namaste.

~*~

No, I haven't totally GIVEN UP. I am still rabble rousing on behalf of my candidates, still working for alla them good causes. But as I said, I feel the change in the air. Don't need no weatherman. Sarah Palin is the Paul Revere of the movement, and she has effectively crowned my next governor. I have no reason to doubt her resolve, or any of the rest of them. By contrast, the left is currently in shreds; bedraggled and beleaguered. We can't even sustain a real live antiwar movement. (THEY have sustained their PRO-war movement.) I think they will easily kick us to the curb, unless we all WAKE UP.

And I still hear snoring. Hello? Anybody listening?

Please don't be long, or I may be asleep

Now if you ask of psychology just how and why aims that were peripheral become at a certain moment central, psychology has to reply that she is unable to account accurately for all the single forces at work.

--William James, Varieties of Religious Experience


I have always tried to be honest when it comes to spiritually-based matters. Even when it makes me look crazed or stupid. This time, however, has been especially difficult.

It seems I don't have the right words, the proper references, the easy approach. On some level, I find Westerners who claim Eastern religions to be pretentious and silly; tourists of the soul. And yet... I wrote about my beloved George Harrison for a reason. I made the case for him and people like him.

Of course, I realized I was also talking about myself. I knew this could all apply to me at some later date.

The date and time arrived, without any preparation, rather like an old rusty sundial that nobody pays much attention to. Time's up. The clock struck the hour, and as the book of Matthew tells us, no man knows the day or the hour, not even the angels in heaven.

I hesitate to call it a conversion. But I am stuck with Western words--words with their roots in Christianity. As I said in the George Harrison post: they don't do it like that, we do it like that. But then, I am talking about ME, right?

I do it like that.

~*~

My study of Buddhism has grown extensive. And just like those numerous TV detectives (or Greg House), I was in the middle of something else entirely when it happened. In a series of realizations, everything coalesced, made sense, lined up. I tried to fight it, because I knew what it meant. (I briefly wrote about that here.) I am frankly terrified at the idea of "leaving" the Church, even psychologically. (Physically, I have no trouble staying away for months at a time.) A creator God is an idea I can't overcome and can't shake; an idea that seems etched somewhere on my cerebellum. In addition, my deep love for the saints and the Blessed Mother is a palpable and real phenomena in my life. I don't want to change, I protested inwardly, I don't want to.

Then why are you reading all of this stuff? Why have you steadily prayed for compassion?

It was the graveyard. I asked the spirits of the dead to speak to me, and tell me what they know.

~*~

I decided to take photos of the German graveyard in Fredericksburg, Texas. These immigrants are the people my grandchildren descend from, my son-in-law's family. They came thousands and thousands of miles, to these hills that must have seemed so hot, so inhospitable, so strange. They left the "old country" and arrived in the land of coyotes and cactus. I thought of what it was like, never hugging one's parents again, crossing a huge ocean and knowing that you will never again see the place you came from, the land that nurtured you and formed your imagination.

I saw the gravestones, some of them the graves of babies. The whooping cough, polio and other diseases these babies likely died from, have been largely eradicated in the West. And yet, our pain, our suffering, does not diminish. We have all kinds of modern conveniences that these Germans would have found incredible, the answer to any number of daily problems; even a telephone would have been an amazing innovation in their very primitive, pioneer way of life. But what does the modern proliferation of phones bring us? I thought of the woman seated behind me on the plane, arguing on her cell phone in controlled tones... arguing with who? I tried to figure it out and could not: Husband? Boyfriend? Best friend?

I thought of the juxtaposition of the arguing passenger, and the German immigrant (lying here in this cemetery?) of the last century, who would have been so overjoyed to hear that her husband was merely late, not hurt or harmed on his long, muddy trek home by horse-drawn wagon. Telephones were once used only in similar emergencies, to notify Atticus Finch there was a rabid dog outside, and other scary stuff like that. But now we all carry one, like talismans to ward off the problems of modern life that materialize seemingly out of nowhere. And as a result, omnipresent telephones have also helped to multiply our distress.

I thought about my newborn grandson, my nearly-five-year-old granddaughter, and the pain I have experienced, not being able to see them as often as I want to. I know they will not die of these old diseases, causing me great pain, but I do feel the intense pain of separation, the same crushing pain these German immigrants felt. In that sense, nothing has changed. Our common humanity is the same, and we feel the same, even after the passing of a hundred years.

We have improved our lot, we are living longer, I thought, but we are still sad.

And tellingly, graveyards have not changed. We have not changed the fact of death, the end of our earthly existence.

~*~

I entered that area of the cemetery in which the names have worn off the stones. Who are these people?--I thought. Please talk to me. There were gothic-appearing cages surrounding the oldest stones, some very rusty. To keep the grave-robbers out? Frightening. (One might also say, to keep the dead people from escaping, if one were sufficiently spookable.)

I could always get through the first two Noble Truths pretty easily. I mean, come on, who can argue?

The Nature of Suffering (or Dukkha):
"This is the noble truth of suffering: birth is suffering, aging is suffering, illness is suffering, death is suffering; sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief and despair are suffering; union with what is displeasing is suffering; separation from what is pleasing is suffering; not to get what one wants is suffering; in brief, the five aggregates subject to clinging are suffering."

Suffering's Origin (Dukkha Samudaya):
"This is the noble truth of the origin of suffering: it is this craving which leads to renewed existence, accompanied by delight and lust, seeking delight here and there, that is, craving for sensual pleasures, craving for existence, craving for extermination."

I would even agree with the third one, but I just wasn't sure it was for an amateur like me:

Suffering's Cessation (Dukkha Nirodha):
"This is the noble truth of the cessation of suffering: it is the remainderless fading away and cessation of that same craving, the giving up and relinquishing of it, freedom from it, nonreliance on it."

And finally, the fourth, the stumbling block. Aye, this is the rub.

The Path (Dukkha Nirodha Gamini Patipada Magga) Leading to the Cessation of Suffering:
"This is the noble truth of the way leading to the cessation of suffering: it is the Noble Eightfold Path; that is, right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness and right concentration."

Yes, it folded in on me, very simply and honestly.

This is The Truth, and I have found it, after much seeking. I am now ready to accept it.

And there it was, one of the most intense moments of my life, strikingly similar to my two other conversion experiences, which have brought me to this point. (I love trinities; these kindsa things should happen in threes.) I then saw the gravestone that said "Our darling" (photo at left)--and that was it. I started to cry, right there in the old German graveyard, for the suffering of all beings. And I wanted so much, with every fiber of my being, to end it.

I reached out and touched the words: Our darling. I felt the keening, the tears, of the mother who asked for those words on the gravestone. I am so sorry, I sobbed, I am so sorry.

~*~

I promise not to turn this into a Buddhist blog. I wouldn't know how to begin, in any case. I am merely reporting the incident and the shift in my sensibility. My sense of peace and new sense of mission, has not abated in the slightest, and has only increased. I know this means I have to go further. It will be my task to correlate my old beliefs with the new ones, and to figure out what I need to do to fulfill these new convictions in my everyday life. This is called dharma, a word I don't use easily. As I said, the feeling that I am some kind of religious tourist, or worse, a cultural imperialist, is overwhelming, probably fallout from too much leftism. Still, I hope this feeling will keep me honest. And as I seek out a path for myself, I hope my spiritual reticence will prevent me from bloviating nonsense!

In the short run, the change in my life has been enormous. The truth shall set you free!

As always: Stay tuned, sports fans. :)

~*~

Notes:

:: I loved Kloncke's recent posts as Feministe, and highly recommend her blog.

:: And as we speak so honestly of suffering: While I was gone, a sometime blog-reader and good friend passed away. He was one of those very generous, sweet-tempered Christians who embody the Word, and would gladly give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. Rest in Peace, generous and loving soul, Gregg James Farrier 1947-2010. The fierce and beautiful kindnesses you left on the earth, stay behind to remind of us of what we are capable of becoming, if we try.

:: Non-Beatles fans might wonder: blog post title is from George Harrison's Blue Jay Way.

After all of these years, I finally understood the phrase.

How I spent Lent

First, I read Gary Null's book, Death By Medicine, which promptly gave me a kidney stone.

Well, okay, I know the book didn't, but it sure felt that way.

For those interested, my weight loss is going extremely well. I am told that actual numbers "trigger" people in various and sundry ways, so I will refrain from providing actual poundages. I will simply say that my BMI is now in the merely "overweight" category, and has exited the alarming "obese" category. I lost 10% of my body weight during Lent, which believe it or not, wasn't that hard. Now we are approaching the same weight I have dealt with my whole life, which likely will be hard. Still, I have to say, after being repeatedly guaranteed that a woman my age with thyroid disease SIMPLY CAN'T lose weight, I am glad to report that this is another myth. Yes, it is possible... and in fact (here's the dirty secret), I think it's far easier since I no longer have a surplus of estrogen coursing through my body, demanding that I eat to ensure the safety of my progeny. You know those deadly-serious cravings you get about 10 days before the end of the menstrual cycle? (I guess the time-span is different for everyone, but you know what I mean.) Well, I am happy to report that THE CYCLICAL CRAVINGS ARE GONE. Along with my estrogen, that is... which of course means there is a down side to everything.

And I feel great (sans kidney stone), and my left knee stopped hurting!!! (Right knee? A stubborn lil sucker!) I took the kidney stone as a symptom of rapid weight loss, as gallstones can be also.

After reading Gary's scary book, I decided to avoid doctors, since I knew exactly what they would say anyway (I typed medical records, including nephrology, for a good long while) and realized they would use this golden opportunity to test me to an obscenely-expensive fare-thee-well. No tests, no crap, no sirree Bob!

I figured: 1) it probably was a stone, from the symptoms and likely cause and 2) ain't nothing you can do about it except take their nasty toxic drugs and wait for it to flush out. (I also knew that I should go to the ER if I started running a fever, which was virtually impossible while sweating non-stop, as I was.) So, I opted for what I tell my customers: literally gallons of dandelion tea and magnesium citrate. It passed within a day, but it was um, quite memorable... and during this unpleasant time, I locked my keys in my car while it was running and had to call Mr Daisy away from work (he was unusually kind and sympathetic about my stupidity!)...

~*~

If you think it's easy for a big-mouth like me to shut up for 6 weeks, you are RIGHT. Thus, I didn't.

I commented here (Alas, a Blog) on the newest pedophilia scandal in the Catholic Church, and called on the Pope to resign. Of course, no one seriously replied to me (as they never do over there)... but I needed to post that somewhere to get it off my chest immediately.

Easter Sunday, woke up to more infuriating news that the whole scandal has been reduced to "petty gossip" by the Vatican.

(((Daisy yowls for emphasis)))

~*~

One of my favorite spiritual books, The Joy of Compassion by Lama Zopa Rinpoche which I also posted about here. It's a wonderful study guide for the layperson to use!


I had two genuine moments of all-encompassing karuna during Lent, that took me by storm. I was startled and unprepared. They were only a few minutes or so in duration, but they were overwhelming.

I was reminded of a passage from the William Butler Yeats poem, Vacillation (and such a perfect title):

My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.
While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessed and could bless.

I felt great compassion for everyone on earth, even the people I dislike most. Maybe especially for them; I could suddenly see how they had become the people they were. I could see their suffering, and how they/we have bent ourselves into all sorts of unreasonable shapes and angles, to avoid that suffering (which of course, causes even more).

In both cases, in both instances, I was left very shaken by this awareness. I felt myself almost deliberately withdrawing from this consciousness in the last instance: But I don't want to feel compassion for bad people! And I was fighting my own awareness. Concurrently, I realized I was withdrawing my request for enlightenment by fighting the compassion. My ego, my innate desire to feel superiority to others, my desire (need?) to dislike others, all defilements rooted in the material world, fought my desire for enlightenment.

And I heard my deepest self's incredulity: But isn't this what you wanted?

Ego replies: I don't WANT to feel compassion for evil people, they don't deserve it!

Deepest self: Do you deserve it?

Ouch! I remembered the Eucharistic liturgy, and the specific request that God not grant us what we truly deserve. During the (endless) Good Friday liturgy, and subsequent Veneration of the Cross, I took note of the role of the laity in the liturgy: we are the ones who shout "Crucify him!"... it isn't someone else who does it.

Give us Barabbas, not this one!

Do we forget our role in the Passion? Why do we think it would be any different if He returned now? We would do the same thing, all over again.

Look around, we do it all the time.

~*~

Glad to be back. Hope all is well with you, and please take note of my new moderation policy, inspired by people who would tell me getting an abortion is majorly right-on and terrific, but chew me out over trying to prevent a heart attack. No more, folks. New sheriff in town, etc.

I loves you guys and I missed you!!! (((sobs)))

Dead Air Church: The Joy of Compassion

At left: Dhyani Buddha Amoghasiddhi, traditional Tibetan Thangka painting.


Another version of the story below is in the book THE JOY OF COMPASSION by Lama Zopa Rinpoche--which is free from the Lama Yeshe Wisdom Archives.

This version is excerpted from Teachings From the Vajrasattva Retreat. (Soquel, California, 1999)

~*~

...As I mentioned once before, when the great yogi Ngagpa Chöpawa was going to Odi to practice tantra—probably the final part of the practice —at the river crossing there was a woman totally covered by leprosy sores, with pus and blood oozing out. She asked the yogi, “Please take me across to the other side of the river.” The yogi didn’t help her and left. Later, his disciple Getsul Tsimbulwa, a monk living in the thirty-six vows, came along and she asked him the same thing, “Please take me across to the other side of the river.” As soon as he saw this woman sitting there, completely covered with leprosy sores with pus oozing out, totally dark, just by seeing her, he felt unbearable compassion and immediately, without any hesitation, without thinking that he is a monk and she is a woman or that she’s covered in disease, something untouchable, with none of this, he just picked her up, put her on his back and started across the river. Getsul Tsimbulwa, with his unbearable compassion, completely sacrificed himself to carry this woman.

However, when they reached the middle of the river, this woman suddenly became the deity Dorje Pagmo, the female buddha, Dorje Pagmo, and took this monk to the pure land Tarpa Kachö. If you are born in this pure land, you are one hundred per cent certain to become enlightened in that life. So, in the middle of the river, this woman, who was covered with leprosy, looking very ordinary, in much suffering, became the buddha, the deity Dorje Pagmo, and took this monk to her pure land, and in that way, he became enlightened.

In this story, the teacher, the yogi, didn’t help that woman but just passed by. However, his disciple, the monk, sacrificed his life to take care of her, to carry her across the river. Then, in this life, without first having to die, he was taken to her pure land in his ordinary body—in this life, not the next. He went to the pure land, not after death but in the body of this life, and became enlightened there. From the story, it seems that perhaps the disciple got enlightened before his teacher, the yogi.

Therefore, when we think of the benefits of cherishing one sentient being, sacrificing our life for one sentient being, they are like the infinite sky. The benefits are unbelievable; something to enjoy in life. The benefits of cherishing even one sentient being with bodhicitta are like the sky.

Cherishing others, seeing that even one sentient being is much more precious than yourself, is the most precious thing in your life, is most kind, is an unbelievable way to enjoy your life.

I’m not telling you why we should help others, why we should benefit others, because this is something new that you haven’t heard before. Those who have received lam-rim teachings have heard this many times. I’m doing it to inspire or remind all those who already know these things and to inform those who don’t but need to know. Why? Because this is the most important education of all. This is more important to know than anything else in life. This is the most important thing you will ever learn.

--Venerable Kyabje Lama Zopa Rinpoche is the Spiritual Director of the Foundation of the Preservation of the Mahayana Tradition.

~*~

At left: traditional St Christopher medal, patron saint of travelers.

The Buddhist story above is very, very similar to the Christian story of St Christopher, which literally translates as "Christ-bearer":

[The hermit] suggested that because of his size and strength Christopher could serve Christ by assisting people to cross a dangerous river, where many were perishing in the attempt. The hermit promised that this service would be pleasing to Christ.

After Christopher had performed this service for some time, a little child asked him to take him across the river. During the crossing, the river became swollen and the child seemed as heavy as lead, so much that Christopher could scarcely carry him and found himself in great difficulty. When he finally reached the other side, he said to the child: "You have put me in the greatest danger. I do not think the whole world could have been as heavy on my shoulders as you were." The child replied: "You had on your shoulders not only the whole world but him who made it. I am Christ your king, whom you are serving by this work." The child then vanished.

And Christopher was sainted, that is to say, granted eternal life.

These stories instruct us that we save ourselves through saving others. The persons saved turn out to be actual deities; this is a way of saying everyone could be a deity, no matter their outward appearance.

Therefore, love others as you love God.

~*~

And now for our hymn. This may not last long, so listen while you have the chance! My other David Crosby song, LAUGHING, was removed recently... and another version of WOODEN SHIPS has already been yanked, like, since last night.

So, here is the only one that remains on YouTube. Listen and remember ... and don't forget the edifying stories we have just heard!

Note Stephen Stills' dreamy-beautiful guitar lines, which are perfectly suggestive of waves on the water; every now and then some crashing and turbulence.

Wooden Ships - Crosby, Stills and Nash



Have a beautiful Sabbath, everyone!