17 July 2005

There was so much to bring me down during our travels: the miles of highway with multiple lanes of roaring stinking vehicles, creating a demoralizing heat and noise. The vacant faces of obese inhabitants, unhappily making their way through plate after plate of bland fried meats and ham with gravy served at trough-like buffets, floors sticky with spilled food and sugared drinks. The streets of inner Boston--historical landmarks with peeling paint, urine stench of the sidewalks, beggars desperately dancing and calling out desperate pleas. The broken childless houses, inhabitants isolated one from the other, each living the unpeopled world of a television screen. Littered trains, abandoned industrial sites. Meals served in hard plastic containers designed for one use only. Cynical hotel clerks who casually lie about “temporary” phone and pool and internet outages and rental car clerks who behave in advance as though we will cheat them. The vacant eyes and disconscious babble of kids who were too rich and kids who were too poor.

There was beauty, too. The small dark man in Pennsylvania who cleaned our car windows and blessed us from his eyes. The miles upon miles of deciduous forest throughout New York and Massachusetts. The German mathematician in his university tower, arms and legs crossed, in a small room lit by glimmers of daylight, alone in his summer-silent department. The eager curiosity of the Brooklyn girl at Cornell who stumbled into ornithology. The broken button sculpture, the gate of bronze hands at UPenn. The painful awakening on the face of a beggar who took our picture. The songs of the warbling vireo, the song sparrow at The End of the World. The bells ringing and ringing and ringing from the steeple of North Church. The sunlight glowing through the glass window of an Italian express restaurant in Boston, bouncing off the mirror and multiplying, illuminating dyed-blond crucifixed check-out gal, Coast Guard men and women in their dark royal blue with their slices of pizza, a shrunken man with his walker. The woman whose frame shop barely disguised her true passion for futbol. The foreign shuttle drivers--were they African? Brazilian?-- who kept the radio volume up, afraid to reveal their wrestling with the English language. The homegrown shuttle driver who appeared so middleclass, then revealing his broken teeth and need in the thank you for a tip. The house sparrow, so cheeky, on the centuries old headstone engraved with a vacant skull. A son who without asking loaded the heavy bags in and out of the trunk of our little black Chevy. The wet wind tearing through a willow at the tip of a finger lake. The cable station showing the Tour de France, the bicyclists pedaling and pedaling like a simple hypnotic force of nature. The volunteer at Cornell Ornithology lab who took pity and found us a contact in a campus of unknown faces. The stupendous pipes of an organ at UPenn, mirrored on the opposite wall. The guitarist in Boston square, his endless cascade of techniques teasing, pleasing neurons of the brain that did not know they were there. The friendly diversity of the people and the mindblowing eggplant grinders of Tolland, Connecticut.

Then, what to make of the maniacal but friendly drivers of Boston.

14 July 2005

back home
mid-day
hot and motionless
vultures circle
cicadas whir
step on step
on radiant asphalt
I search for a friend
only to disturb
two does and a fawn
curled in a spiral doze
now exploded into motion
3 directions at once
hooves thump against
hard cracked earth
heat stings the nostrils
there is no friend
there is no hope
sometimes there’s nought
but to let go of the search
to be silent
to listen
to travel
home within

05 July 2005

Walk, don’t run, toward what you’ve been avoiding and examine with care.

04 July 2005

I was writing for today's Independence Day entry an essay on the flag and the war and the precious ideals our country embraced at its conception. Then, visiting a photoblog I came upon the name Thich Nhat Hanh. I'd never heard that name before, so Googled it. What I found seems far more valuable than what I started out with today. So I'll share it here (copied as is and pasted):

14 Precepts:
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"Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones. All systems of thought are guiding means; they are not absolute truth.

Do not think that the knowledge you presently possess is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being narrow-minded and bound to present views. Learn and practice non-attachment from views in order to be open to receive others' viewpoints. Truth is found in life and not merely in conceptual knowledge. Be ready to learn throughout our entire life and to observe reality in yourself and in the world at all times.

Do not force others, including children, by any means whatsoever, to adopt your views, whether by authority, threat, money, propaganda, or even education. However, through compassionate dialogue, help others renounce fanaticism and narrowness.

Do not avoid contact with suffering or close your eyes before suffering. Do not lose awareness of the existence of suffering in the life of the world. find ways to be with those who are suffering by all means, including personal contact and visits, images, sound. By such means, awaken yourself and others to the reality of suffering in the world.

Do not accumulate wealth while millions are hungry. Do not take as the aim of you life fame, profit, wealth, or sensual pleasure. Live simply and share time, energy, and material resources with those who are in need.

Do not maintain anger or hatred. As soon as anger and hatred arise, practice the meditation on compassion in order to deeply understand the persons who have caused anger and hatred. Learn to look at other beings with the eyes of compassion.

Do not lose yourself in dispersion and in your surroundings. Learn to practice breathing in order to regain composure of body and mind, to practice mindfulness, and to develop concentration and understanding.

Do not utter words that can create discord and cause the community to break. Make every effort to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.

Do not say untruthful things for the sake of personal interest of to impress people. Do not utter words that cause diversion and hatred. Do not spread news that you do not know to be certain. Do not criticize or condemn things you are not sure of. Always speak truthfully and constructively. Have the courage to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten your own safety.

Do not use the Buddhist community for personal gain or profit, or transform your community into a political party. A religious community should, however, take a clear stand against oppression and injustice, and should strive to change the situation without engaging in partisan conflicts.

Do not live with a vocation that is harmful to humans and nature. Do not invest in companies that deprive others of their chance to life. Select a vocation which helps realize your ideal compassion.

Do not kill. Do not let others kill. Find whatever means possible to protect life and to prevent war.

Possess nothing that should belong to others. Respect the property of others but prevent others from enriching themselves from human suffering or the suffering of other beings.

Do not mistreat your body. Learn to handle it with respect. Do not look on your body as only and instrument. Preserve vital energies (sexual, breath, spirit) for the realization of the Way. Sexual expression should not happen without love and commitment. In sexual relationships be aware of future suffering that may be caused. To preserve the happiness of others, respect the rights and commitments of others. Be fully aware of the responsibility of bringing new lives into the world. Meditate on the world into which you are bringing new beings.

Do not believe that I feel that I follow each and every of these precepts perfectly. I know I fail in many ways. None of us can fully fulfill any of these. However, I must work toward a goal. These are my goal. No words can replace practice, only practice can make the words.

"The finger pointing at the moon is not the moon."

03 July 2005

Walked in the heat after supper as sunset wavered, and felt after all these years no longer wistful.

It makes no difference what any one else does, whether the fates provide the rest or not. I have at last cleared my path, opened toward what answers the thirst in my soul. That is all that is asked of me.

It's not the having. It's the being open to the having. Whether there's a snowball's chance on a Texas night in July of receiving that or not.

To live truth.

There is nothing but suffering and wistfulness in denying what is essential to your life.

02 July 2005

I drove home from the grocery to a song I'd never heard before.

The singer calling to Ms Dragonfly, Ms Butterfly--then asking 'What kind of creature am I?

As I unloaded the bags, 'What kind of creature am I' poured from my throat. My voice soared from low to high, and I improvised—I can fly!-echoing in the garage, as though my voice were unchained. Busted out of its cage.

Truly, I’ve believed these last years all but the low notes were lost to me forever.