Quotes

 A 70 year-old wooden 110 keelboat sailing in Tomales Bay out of Inverness Yacht Club

Two quotes have been rattling around in my head of late. The first is by E.B. White, my favorite American essayist who shared my obsession with sailing:

"If a man must be obsessed by something, I suppose a boat is as good as anything, perhaps a bit better than most. A small sailing craft is not only beautiful, it is seductive and full of strange promise and the hint of trouble." -- E.B. White

The second passage, this one by Joseph Campbell, points at something I suspect is true:

People say that what we're all seeking is a meaning for life...I think that what we're really seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on a purely physical plane will have resonance within our innermost being and reality, so that we can actually feel the rapture of being alive. --Joseph Campbell

The experience of being fully alive is available everywhere, of course. For me, it is readily accessible while sailing a boat moving in the confluence of flowing wind and water.

There's nothing obviously meaningful about sailing; it's simply exhilarating beyond measure.

The Charter for Compassion

We talked about this Charter of Compassion at the last Society of Friends of the Buddha meeting.  


It's a fine document, worth more than a passing thought, and deserving of consideration as a guiding light for our thoughts, speech, and actions in this world.


Here is what it says:


The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensible to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.

And here is a video saying the same thing:



And a link to the website so you can affirm the charter (as I have done) along with the thousands of others who've already done so. Link.

May you be well. May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be at ease.

Moon Time

Playing the Native American flute as part of my morning meditation practice has subtly heightened my awareness of the natural world. It's as if Native American wisdom seeps in to my heart with the music that comes through me.

The music I make impelled me to order a couple of pendants, one of a wolf howling at the moon and the other of a snarling grizzly bear. I'm not the sort of guy who goes for talismans or jewelry...but.... something's shifted.

 I wear the howling wolf from the first quarter moon until the last quarter moon, the approximately two-week period when the moon is half full and more than half full.

When the moon is less than half full I wear the grizzly bear pendant around my neck. The bear's energy feels right in the dark nights. I'll start wearing the grizzly pendant tomorrow and keep it on for the next two weeks as the sun shines on the backside of the moon, the side we never see.

For two weeks the moon will take its turn being closer to the sun than the earth.

 

There is something about being in moon time that helps me feel grounded to the earth. It's a non-clock cyclic time that the rest of life, fungi, plants, and animals alike live in. It's a lovely and beautiful realm.

American Beauty

I am a media hermit. I don't have a TV. I haven't read a newspaper regularly since the Christian Science Monitor stopped printing its paper.

I seldom listen to the radio. NPR doesn't work for me, because the range of debate on war is so limited. On NPR they never, never, never ask IF we should go to war; NPR debates HOW war should be waged. That's not a debate, that's a tactical discussion. Notice they often do human interest profiles of soldiers and others in military service. Can you remember one such story on an antiwar protester? I cannot. But I don't listen that much. Friends tell me that NPR seems "liberal" socially— it interviews gay activists or pro-life spokespeople—but on defense issues NPR is relentlessly pro-war, as if NPR really stands for National Pentagon Radio.

No TV, radio, or newspaper news. Like I said. I'm a media hermit.

That said, I'll watch an occasional movie.

But when it comes to movies, I'm very picky. I tend to choose documentaries recommended to me by Netflix, about two or three each month, viewed on my computer, since I don't have a TV. I don't have the patience to watch most Hollywood movies: romantic comedies are too predictable; thrillers are too violent; dramas are generally too depressing; stand-up comedy too course.

This would explain why until recently I hadn't seen American Beauty, a 1999 movie that won 5 Academy Awards, (Best Actor for Kevin Spacey, Best Screenplay for Alan Ball, Best Cinematography for Hunt Conrad, Best Director for Sam Mendes, and Best Picture for producers Cohen and Jinks).

American Beauty is the exception that proves my anti-Hollywood rule. Here is a Hollywood movie that I enjoyed. I liked the directing and cinematography, especially the long-attention-span scenes. (I'm no fan of jumpy camerawork; I like to look at a scene far longer than most movies permit.) I liked the music. I liked the lighting. I liked the acting.

I particularly liked the screenplay by Alan Ball. It was good all the way through, but hit its high point in the final voice over that concludes the movie. The feeling Lester Burnham describes at the end about beauty flowing like rain and feeling gratitude in every moment?

Call me a lucky guy, but I feel gratitude like that regularly as a kindergarten teacher.

I do, yes, I do.

I'd always heard your entire  life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all. It stretches on forever, like an ocean of time. For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars. And yellow leaves from the maple trees that lined our street. Or my grandmother's hands and the way her skin seemed like paper. And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird. And Janey, and Janey. And Carolyn.

I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once and it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst and then I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it.  And and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry, you will someday.

You Tube clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYrgHju3d-E

I guess if I could make one change to the movie I wouldn't kill off my main character at the end. My high school creative writing teacher counseled his budding novelists and screenwriters to resist that temptation. I think it was good advice.

Dispelling Despair

I often feel overwhelmed by the news, especially the dire news about global warming and climate change.

Today was a day of protests aimed at raising awareness on this issue. This International Day of Climate Action was sponsored by 350.org.Their website is here: 350.org.

Sebastopol friends held up somber signs downtown for passing motorists to read....you know about how we've passed the threshold of 350 parts per million of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, the level beyond which civilization-threatening global warming is believed to be inevitable. Somehow, if I had joined them, my feelings of despair would have deepened.

On this day of 350 protests, I joined with my local Green Sangha this morning to transform a front yard into an edible landscape.

We dug out weeds, spread mulch, and planted edibles. We soon transformed what had once been an ordinary front yard into a bee-friendly organic garden that will soon yield an abundance locally grown food. We believe the yard will produce too much for the householders to eat, thus prompting sharing of the earth's bounty with neighbors.

An ancillary benefit was the fact that 25 people donated their labor without any expectation of ordinary compensation or trade. As I was weeding, it seemed strange that I was brought up to believe we should each own our own private property— "my home is my castle," as my dad's generation put it—and maintain our private domains ourselves or hire someone to do the maintenance. It's so much more fun to give away your labor with like-minded folks.

I had the pleasure of meeting Steve Bush (no relation; I asked) who is a male kindergarten teacher at Sonoma Day School. Men teaching kindergarten are an endangered species, and it's always exciting me meet a comrade. I enjoyed the companionship of old sangha friends, the pleasure of meeting new people, and the wholesome effects of light exercise in the service of communities both human and ecological.

Giving away my labor definitely brightened my day and dispelled the despair.

Dharmakaya

My mother died on this day 13 years ago.  I woke up this morning before dawn—spontaneously—at the exact time she passed over. For an hour I lay awake thinking of her, her death, and the difficult weeks and months that followed. I thought of the many more people who have died in these thirteen years. My mom was the first of our parents to die. We didn't know it then, but within 7 years the remaining three of our parents would be buried. In that same interval I lost my first Buddhist teacher, Kobun Chino Otogawa, and my closest mentor in education, Don Ryckman. Lots of difficult loss. At breakfast I talked with Sarah about all this; she said I was sounding depressed, that I should do something to get out of my funk.

I went sailing today on my little sailboat on my favorite body of water, Tomales Bay. No activity I know...well no activity that can be discussed in polite company—and I'm still old-fashioned enough to prefer polite company—is so completely engrossing for me as is sailing a small boat on open water.

Here's a picture of my father and mother taken on their wedding day on August 24, 1948.

Just before he passed away, the Buddha said to his disciples, "Only my physical body will pass away. My Dharma body [Dharmakaya] will remain with you."

By dying, my mother taught me the meaning of this teaching very clearly. Her body's gone. But important parts of my mother's energy live on in me and in my brothers and sisters. She's still here with me in countless ways. She gave me the gift of music, a gift for which I am deeply grateful. Each time I hear Bach's Italian Sonata or "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" I think of my mom; she used to play both of these Bach compositions on her baby grand piano when I was a little boy.

Mom was by no means perfect; she transmitted much of the suffering she endured. That's been part of her teaching, too. When I first heard the Buddha's Noble Truths, the First Noble Truth, the truth of suffering, rang loudly throughout my mind and body with undeniable and convincing veracity. Thanks to my mother and father, I was receptive soil for the Buddha's seeds of wisdom.

As the years have passed I've grown more and more forgiving of Mom's shortcomings. I've grown more appreciative of the simple fact she brought us, my brothers and sisters and me, into this world and got us through childhood.

So here's to you mom!

May you be safe, happy, and loving wherever you are.

Appreciating Yourself

Have you ever met—in real life or online—someone who has very similar interests to your own?

Thanks to blogging, I've met someone like that, and I'm sure we'd like each other. His name is Alden Smith. We're the same age. Like me, he loves sailing, kayaking, and bicycling. He's invested his career educating young children. And he's interested in philosophy, psychology, and spirituality. When I found Alden's blog it felt like I'd found someone who's living almost the same life as mine, just in a different part of the world. Alden lives in New Zealand; I live in California.

Perhaps some day, Alden and I will have the opportunity to meet in real life. It would be quite a thrill.

But here's an odd thing to contemplate: I don't particularly appreciate in me the very same qualities I would so readily and naturally appreciate when I find them in someone else.

Isn't that odd?

I think it's a good exercise in self-appreciation to realize that you would really like yourself if you had the chance to make your acquaintance as a friend.

Take a minute and imagine that you could meet someone so very much like you.

Wouldn't you like them a whole lot? Yes, you would. So, give that gift to yourself: like yourself for being you.