The Unmistaken Child

If as a blogger, I could clear my throat... Look meaningfully into the readers eyes and speak in the most sincere tone I am able, I would preface this post with that display.

Today I wish to discuss a film titled "The Unmistaken Child." And to do so I call upon the most reverent voice I am able to speak with.

I thought that it would be a familiar movie inasmuch as I have seen portrayals of the search and discovery of a tulku. After all it is described in the dramatic style of American films when one sees "Little Buddha", and Scorcese painting a panoramic canvas of His Holiness the Dalai Lama's recognition in "Kundun".

Even so, I was not expecting the beauty of a simplistic documentary that chronicles the actual search for Lama Konchog's current encarnation.

Discovering a Rinpoche (reincarnate teacher) is a miracle. It is not a once every several millenia phenomena, it is not probably exclusive to a religion. But I would guess that it is only occuring where lots of emphasis is given still on the method of accomplishment. (See Ngundro instructions!)

No person who walks among us is prepared to take rebirth with purpose and intention unless that person has practiced diligently and accomplished progress on the path. We spend countless calories planning meals or dates or parties-but give little thought to our subsequent life. And yet when the door closes on this human existence, a labyrinth of endless corridors opens during our transition to the next life. And few if any of us have really studied the map. (See P'howa instructions.)

The teachers and texts implore us to study, prepare and achieve what is possible, yet most of the time-even those of us convinced we want the outcome-are reluctant to put in the time.

I came to watch "The Unexpected Child" rather by accident. I had a to-do list a mile long on Saturday. I allowed myself a 3 hour frivilous movie break on Netflix at the end of the day-choosing my first feature based on the habit of desire and the unending obsession I have with gay themed films in the romantic comedy genre. (Side note: being gay-not a big issue for studying the subject matter of tulkus and practicing p'howa... Just seemed a topical point to make given current political rumblings from some homophobobic religious voices. To hell with seperation of church and state right? Oops, I digress...)

The first movie was mildly amusing in that brainless, predictable, stereotypical and unchallenging "eye candy" kind of way. Yet even as the credits rolled-I felt sickened by the lie it perpetuated. That a stupid overture or oddyssey resulting in emotionally charged relationships (or the promise of one) is what youth and life are all about pursuing. Even when they last-what ultimate outcome is brought?

The sharp contrast that blossomed in my mind was what compelled me to click on another movie in my Netflix suggestion list.

I watched mostly assuming I would sense the familiarity of the Tibetan-esque cinematic feature, and then file it to come back to. (Or go enjoy "The Cup" again if this weren't my particular film of choice.)

But very quickly the documentary landed me in the midst of lama last rites, ringsel collection and tulku prediction. These are the very mystical and mechanical underpinnings of life. The secrets we avoid when we distract ourselves with sports, or music, or politics, and the very reason that the lamas encourage us to persevere. Working hard NOW to step off the endless Merry Go Round, and receive your diploma in a different field of study. Not a bachelors degree, but a commitment to serve and be of benefit throughout all future lives.

That phrase is challenging to comprehend for me. Like on the first day of kindergarten, you could hear the word calculus or physics-but the training and comprehension is a slow and long academic road to being able to perform those equations with competence.

So the film reminds me (without saying much) to study hard in life. Because many teachings exist about the actual journey between lives and the rebirth you will take either blindly-or well prepared. As I once more bring an imperfect metaphor to a close: every student who prepares for the S.A.T. does not necessarily ace it-but woe onto those who ignore the preparations altogether. One route helps transition for the future, even if an additional attempt is required to attain the goal. To not prepare is silly, stubborn and states a clear unwillingness to advanced toward a beneficial future outcome.

Peace ya'll. Study hard, see the film if you get a chance, and always bring a #2 pencil to you test!

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Like Christmas for Buddhists.

Okay-it is not a 100% perfect analogy, but let me 'splain my meaning.

We all have learned that Jesus was not actually born on Dec 25th. There were Pagan rituals (perhaps winter solstice - do not quote me on that tho) that Christian observers par lay into the Christ Mass-the observation of their holiest day.

Now it is universally recognized as a cultural holiday-whether you celebrate it or not. Christmas conjures the thoughts of peace, joy, goodwill and generosity.

Not to say there is a complete and unified reaction to Christmas-you have your bah humbugs and your nay sayers. But most people in our civilization have at least the ability to say, "Christmas is supposed to be the celebration of the birth of Christ."

Now as a new generation of Buddhists in American society, I like to post little acknowledgments on our four most holy days. Each one is called a duchen (pronounced doo-chin) which means great day or great festival. You can learn about the historical significance over on Tara.org, or on TibetanBuddhistAltar.org or even a more generic/scholastic explanation on wikipedia perhaps. Each Duchen is a marker of a miracle in the life of Shakyamuni Buddha (the historical Buddha of our planet and this age.)

Today is Lha Bab Duchen. And its significance is multiplied for me because I took refuge (closest Christian parallel might be confirmation- but don't go thinking they are really the same) on Lha Bab Duchen in 1998.

The actual calendar dates slide so the anniversary date varies, but it is the last ten million day of each year (we call it ten million day because karmically all your thoughts, speech and action are more potent on these days, so be it positive or negative you create strong future conditions on a Duchen.)

My colloquial term for it is a spiritual "double coupon day" as a friend of John's once cleverly named it!

So Happy Lha Bab Duchen. Mind your karmic scenarios today-since it is more weighty for us all (in the way gravity affects both those who understand it and those completely unaware-I recommend people don't drop breakable stuff. Therefore on a heavy karmic imprint day, engage in karma you want multiplied-generosity, kindness, compassion! Not a good day for anger, impatience, self righteousness-we can do that tomorrow if we must...)

May all of you experience the Truth and Beauty of your Nature in whatever expression has value and meaning to you!

Peace ya'll...
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A Burning Issue

My mind keeps reflecting on this young man (Michael Brewer) who was purposely lit on fire by peers. I read the story before my prayer shift and found myself contemplating the very minor burn I suffered in my youth. Maybe 30% of my right hand was injured in a grease burn, and the recovery was excruciating for me and my mother who had to clean the wound nightly and re bandage and dress it with Silvadene and slide on a flesh tone glove that was like a "second skin" that I wore in fifth and sixth grade. ~NOTHING~ compared to Brewer's condition.

My worst vanity about having a hand that was discolored and badly scarred is NOTHING compared to what this young man faces in the wake of this incident.

First and foremost, he is fighting for his life. At an estimated 65% of his body having been burned, there are few biological systems kicking in for his survival according to the news report - he is being stabilized by medicine and machinery.

Secondly, if our prayers are answered and he survives - what a long and arduous recovery lies ahead.

Third - imagine the legal nightmare that his family must surely face as these 15 year olds (and one 13 year old) are charged and prosecuted as adults (the 13 y.o will only be charged as an adult if the young man dies from this incident.) And all for what - $40 and a stolen bike?

Samsara is endless in her display of suffering, but this one was a gut punch to my solar plexus. I guess I think I can relate on a tiny scale - and then I try to extrapolate from there what young Mister Brewer faces in his life.

Like Matthew Shepherd knocked the wind out of me... so does this hate crime. Different entirely in its "subject matter" - but the fact that our young population have no sense of consequence, no fear of karma, and no compassion for their fellow man. And that somewhere it is within my constitution, or I could not see it displayed in my world.

I pray for this whole train wreck of a scenario to pacify... may ANY blessing or merit I have earned go to this young man's survival, his family and their support, and those who perpetrated this horrible event that they may feel remorse and turn their hearts around even to become upstanding pillars of virtue whether behind bars forever or somehow out in the world.

May this bring love somewhere in the universe, where right now all we see is the fiery display of hate and the damage of that wretched energy.

May all beings know peace and compassion. Hang on to your precious human life Michael Brewer... and may you be strong and healthy and have a kind heart despite this awful thing that has been put on you.

Over The Moon

Alright, so in this day and age-your lama can tweet-and you can commune online and via text. The techno devotee access is amazing.

My friend and upstairs neighbor Atara is a nun and attendant for the lama. She shared a text poem that Jetsunma had written about her knee issues. Jetsunma's wit is off the chain! (That is modern speak for Funny. Very Funny!)

So I offered up this little ditty in response from the bus stop on my commute home! Holly invited me to post it on Jetsunma's blog with the lama's approval- but I got stimeyed by some issue on my Blackberry trying to post it-so here it is until we can get it published over on Tibetan Buddhist Altar:

"Ode to J.A.L."

Love my teach
She's one hip lama
Higher reach
Than Prez Obama
Leads us daily
On the path
Her Tweets and Tales
Of mirth and wrath

Guiding All Those
Beings she calls
With song and Prose
Bout rise and falls
Endless Lies
Samsara brings
But countless lives
Dakini Sings!

So happy boy
Crackberry raises
Making Noise
With clicky praises
Brooklyn Goddess
Palyul beseeched
To have her Modest
Brilliance Teached!

Come One Come All
Her feast laid bare
With achy knee
But Kick Ass Hair
Her Beauty guides
A Motley Crew
As she hooked us
We'll Hook you too!
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"Today"-An artificial Poem

14,000 days have passed
Tick tock timeless crawl
Through life's corridor

Temples dusted gray
Creasing the corners
Of Eyes and Smiles

Every new moment
A stroke that robs opportunity

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Busy Autumn

I wil be up and running for blogability soon. I have had a big inconvenient pile of computer parts with no time to hook it up to the Interweb. My goal now that we are home furnished is to get online service handled.

But soon I will be back and tippy tapping the keys for your perverse reading pleasure. Til then... "Everything is Everything!"
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Sorting Laundry

Soil and memories
Bound in Fabric
Piled by time and
Lack thereof

Stains of hope
Taunt me
Reminding us
More is possible...
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Atypical Day

Atypical... not "a typical" and I don't even know if there are "typical" days any more? Do any of you have them?

I am amused, to say the least, by the CONTROVERSY of our President addressing students today. I am sure there are plenty of "righteous" arguments for those who opposed - but I must say... Get a life! We all know kids LOVE assemblies that get us out of class. And compared to the asinine things we got called out of homeroom for when I was in school, seems to me that a speech by the incumbent president is not only historically relevant to education, but the man is an inspired orator.

Then again... people would probably find fault with Jesus if he showed up to preach on any given Sunday - so I will step off my soapbox...

My day started under the weather - no doubt my body building its immunities against the onslaught of swine flu that all the media has promised me that I must catch this fall. This morning was a mere headache and I laid in bed until it was obvious that the passive holistic temple massages and neck kneading maneuver were not going to suffice. I grabbed the nearest mega bottle of ibuprofen and shook a few down the gullet with an Arnold Palmer chaser. Ahhhhhhh. Swine Flu THIS!

Feeling MUCH better after several hours of errands and then some down time surfing (mostly Face book - that life sucking worm hole that usurps hours of my life each time I click onto its demonic presence...) and now I am about to go feed Maggie Gumbo (one of Tara's Babies Katrina rescues.) Any of you who were at the Valley might remember Cowboy/Duke and Maggie - the two Bulldogs in the central pens. He had the two toned eyes and she is the gorgeous junkyard dog that was rescued from the Hurricane, only to learn that was the LEAST oppressive of her experiences. Maggie had been a fighting bitch for pit bull trainers. Her teeth had been filed down so she could not injure the Pits that were released on her to learn fighting. Unbelievable that in a wild kingdom of predators and prey - we humans have nothing better to do than teach things to kill for sport.

Her story before being rescued by Jetsunma is heartbreaking - but now Maggie lives in style with 2 delicious prepared meals a day, toys galore, and her choice of comfy beds around the house where she resides at KPC. A monk is her primary caregiver - though this week she has yours truly keeping her company overnight and Ani Palmo slipping her yummy treats and meals while she works around the kitchen.

I have simultaneously been re-reading the book REBORN IN THE WEST by Vickie McKenzie while I stay at the lineage house. It is sort of like reading the history of the roof over your head. Thus my "atypical" day. During the day I run to central Poolesville and try to do some organizing/unpacking - and as I sidle from box to box in our wee little apartment, I relish the times that have brought me from the lost person I was in Atlanta, cruising gay bars as a shadow - so afraid to be seen in my own skin... and even worse to be outed to friends and family... to this day where I wake up in the presence of the Buddhas, serving a Buddha, caring for a pet rescued by a Buddha, reading about the appearance of the Buddhas in America and the Western Hemispheres... and knowing that Americans can't even decide if we want our highest elected official to have the audacity to inspire our kids during a *GASP* school day.

Our enlightenment hovers not even a breath away from our own heartbeat - and yet we classify, judge, label, argue with and deny the very displays of our world... it makes me sad for the loss that we have by simply not seeing what is in our midst.

I paid a price for my emotional post of recent days. Not a big price, in the grand scheme of things. I had to admit I am weak, and afraid, and shockingly ~imperfect~ (I know, you'll get used to the idea though). My dad called me the night I was moving (and yes - literally John and I waited until the NIGHT we had to move to decide on a place, make arrangements, start packing, clean the house - the WHOLE shebang.... another dreadful habit I have had in this life of procrastinating and surrounding myself with others who empower me to do so!) But when I called Dad (against my wishes at that vulnerable moment, but to respect his request that I do so) we had a sweet conversation. Albeit I felt like an ass ~ and that is a pattern I also struggle with... not wanting my family to see what an ass was raised amidst their successful developments ~ but he kept saying " you want me to jump in the car and come down there son?"

I did, but I didn't --for very obvious reasons. If my parents ever saw how I live - they'd be HORRIFIED... perhaps even disclaim me. I am only half kidding. It is not that I did not appreciate what they taught me about cleanliness, planning and organization... its just that I never got good at it. And now I am so busy with "life" that I never get around to "home life".

John and I joke about not having that gay men's gene that makes you want to decorate your house and keep things tidy... we both ended up with something more akin to that vagabond gene that makes it easier to lay on the bed covered in laundry, with the dogs hopping into the pile, and us eating on the same bed - cave man style with our food in our hands like common simpletons. Not a pretty visual eh? I exaggerate only a TAD bit here. We are some scary queers.

But that is us. It is why we work so well together - if somewhat lazy in outer display... the inner posture is always "are you able to generate some merit today?" WE skimp on the house chores - but we will pile on the moral support. Encouraging each other with movies and snacks when we know that an already long day of work will be followed by a late night foray into the prayer room. Small gestures to keep all hope from fading on an arduous journey we agreed to almost instantly after meeting.

So we are co-dependant, a bit slovenly (and HOW) and a tad retarded in our interpersonal communication skills (not RETARDED as in... an insult to persons with mental challenges... but "stuck" somewhere in the developmental stages of 2 adults sharing a life together.) Truth be told we have walked on the wild side and swung back to the repression of all vices. We have tried many versions of our life together. But being friends and being parents to the ~TWO cUtEsT DogS EvER~ is not our only bond. The strongest tie is that we are practitioners of the Vajrayana path together. We are married spiritually, even if we have no piece of paper on our wall to show for it. And our marriage ain't no picture book wedding. (If ya'll are just dying to send a toaster though - we could run out and register ral quick!) ; )

This fall, as we enter our 12th year together... maybe John and I can start to support each other in some of those healthy adult habits like economizing and budgeting, auto maintenance, laundry and dish duty. Those life skills that have taken a back burner to making sure we are each able to stay focused and prioritize our dharma commitments. But if we don't - I think we may still be okay! (We just will never have you guys over for dinner parties!)

So in closing... I revere my atypical days as an American Buddhist. We always refer to ourselves as Tibetan Buddhists, but I believe that is where our practice comes from, not necessarily where it IS or where it is GOING. Jetsunma is the source of all of our blessings and yet I don't post about her every day because I become BLIND to what it is she has given us. ALL of us. You too.

You needn't be aware of the workings of the earth to benefit from the many systems that keep this planet supporting life. You don't have to understand gravity, revolutions and orbits, weather systems and seasons to enjoy a gorgeous day or sulk at a bad storm that ruins your weekend plans. Likewise, you needn't be aware that there are beings who manifest with ONLY ONE THOUGHT for you --- yes YOU. They wish your suffering to end. They know that every effort you make in this world will come to nothing but dust (sorry, that sounds harsh - but not ONE authentic spiritual teacher has ever taught differently...) So they wish you to become inspired by TRUTH. Religion literally means "to bind back" to the original source. So that is more the method that you chose. But that source is not outside of us, even if we have separated it from us. We think of religion as the building we go to or the books we read or the check box we fill out on a form. Some person called it something fancy in Latin and made it holy and thus we became unholy participants trying to acquire it.

But none of that is the truth. The truth is, we are confused... and seek enlightenment. It is what makes you seek out things that make you HAPPY... whatever those things are. They are underlined by the quest for bliss... that reunion with what you fundamentally remember as your nature but walked away from ~~ out of mass confusion ~~so long ago.

So the Bodhisattva's take birth among us, teaching both in formal ways and in their very display. And should we be fortunate enough to behold a Bodhisattva (of ANY tradition)... may they inspire us to have an atypical day... THIS very day.

Peace ya'll. Now Maggie Gumbo needs some dinner!

Just to clarify...

Cause a few of you (nuns and family are the bomb) have already called to check in on me. I am in this to the finish kids. Ain't going nowhere. Just wanted to confess last night that I get the blues... but my commitment will not waiver, and I got my peeps gettin' me through... and my Dad calling and Ani Dara checking in. It is all good. Very Good. I love you all. Now take 5 minute to hear it more profoundly put.




Gotta go gather a flying nun who is returning from Chicago now...
Peace, and piece of mind!!

The Unfortunate Part of Suicide...

is that nobody lives to tell you how stupid it was to do it!

I have a gruesome proposal... but sometimes the topics choose themselves.

I think not many of us have nurtured our sadder self... that part in all of us that causes us to think "no tomorrow" is better than another today. And yet I fear many of us have let the thought linger for an instant too long at times.

Gloomy tendency is not that far beyond depressing thought. And that lies a hair's breadth further than awful prediction. And one needs a finely tuned instrument to see how close that comes to despair. But none of it is unmanageable.

I know these things, perhaps not as intimately as one who cannot return from them - but I have set foot beyond the border and understand some of the native tongue.

There are incidents that conspire to deprive us of hope. Things that sequence themselves in such a way that you feel unable or unwilling (maybe) to move beyond them.

And it is not like there is one universal talisman that can conjure or predict what circumstances align to tip some poor wounded spirit in the direction of no return...

But those nights come, and for whatever reason we dance with our darker thoughts close to the surface.

I have moved through that choreography - and can still trace a step or two when the music becomes familiar... I dance up close to the idea of death. I forget all the dharma teachings for a moment and pretend that the awful siren song of Samara has some truth in it. Escape from misery - from patterns of $hitty unbearable familiar unpleasantness.

Well we all know what must come after the perversion of a momentary dance with the devil. It is the after burn. Our charred hands and sweaty brow that say we took too close a look into the flame, and blistered our wicked little selves. Guilt makes such a lousy epilogue.

Purity is still alive, deeply buried in the chasm of a chest that contains a beating heart and breathing lungs. But the hope flickers so tiny and dainty, like a candle dancing in the gale force of a hurricane. Mine almost blew out once. Once long ago. I maybe even offered the wind a direct route to extinguish my flame of optimism. And recently it found its way back. Pesky bugger.

One only need move through that moment to see with brighter eyes some of the joys of daily life. To forget how dark and heavy all things can get - and to skitter here and there with friends and beer and light conversation. But sometimes we lay on the heavy trip of "to do that is silly and pointless and SO non productive." More guilt. GReaT!! To steep one's world with things that do not challenge us is tantamount to feeling better- items that are safe and will not harbor regret - anecdotes that keep us from facing the dark night of the uselessness we feel for year after year of our lives. But sometimes ice cream is just what the doctor orders. That happened for me literally yesterday. ~YaY Ice Cream~

But one day - we HAVE to reconcile. Lay out the debits and the credits of our karma and see where our balance resides. Are we overdrawn and penalized? Are we fat with interest bearing interests and yet there is no price tag where we can purchase the contentment we crave?

What skeletal fingers are scratching on yonder side of our grave - waiting to manifest when we are even weaker than we are now when we have the delusional support of our earthly containers.

I wondered tonight what a person who opened their veins in desperation might write about on their blog... if they lived to tell about their sad little escape.

My vows protect me now (thankfully)- thinly wrapped as I seem in them. They steer me clear of those nights I might venture down the road I left behind in 1993. But even when you find a route away from the dark dank travels of that dead end trail... some piece of you nods in the direction of that through way any time you chance upon its neighborhood.

To be clear, there are those days - it seems "to end it all" would bring such relief, such finality to the chaos that makes us (okay ME) feel weak and useless and as much a failure as the voices have always predicted in my head.

But then I think of them... the others... the important ones. Those with whom I have been blessed to spend moments, hours, weeks and years. Friends. Brethren. Family. All those who I would have jipped myself out of knowing if I had taken that cowardly route. But in shame - I still find myself driving by the place, sniffing the wind, and wondering what blissful ignorance would have done when it met with blinding truth. It sure as $hit wouldn't have worried all night about how it was gonna get through ONE more week of this... this... thing. This. Life.

I love my life. And at times - it makes me very sad. Or tired. Or crazy. Or "D" - "all of the above". And in doing so it makes me appreciate all of you, who make life happy again.

Peace ya'll. For REALS. Find it in you and keep it alive - despite the ease of sometimes letting it go.