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!!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Woefully Overdue...
...for a weekly post containing entertainment, mystery and romance for you all to consume!
I have not forgotten my beloved readers - [I hope that it truly hope I am safe to use a plural tense!]
I will return to regular posting soon. Right now am in pet-sitting, preparing to move (without finalized location) and uploading my additional income sites (informational sites about pet feeding if any are interested) The information is given freely, although there are benefits to me through Amazon affiliate products, Adsense and on occassion it is generating clients for pet sitting in this area - so you can read without spending a dime yourself... but DO feel free to refer people who may require the products/services!) "Feed Your Pet Well" is the site name and I will feature it here soon.
Ani Dorje has moved up to SUPER NUN status for hooking me up with 2 pet sitting gigs already. Woo Hoo!! And of course my friend Rebel has told me from the moment I planned to leave AZ that I should just pet sit for a living... you get to say "I told ya so" if years from now this becomes a successful endeavor! ; ) Hey you can check out my friend Beth's site in Atlanta for inspiration.
Okay - back to the dogs, birds, fisheys and Chinchilla (about the cutest damn thing I have EVER seen in my pet sitting career) and oh yes... chickens too! Love. It.
Greeeeeeeen acres is the place for me...
I have not forgotten my beloved readers - [I hope that it truly hope I am safe to use a plural tense!]
I will return to regular posting soon. Right now am in pet-sitting, preparing to move (without finalized location) and uploading my additional income sites (informational sites about pet feeding if any are interested) The information is given freely, although there are benefits to me through Amazon affiliate products, Adsense and on occassion it is generating clients for pet sitting in this area - so you can read without spending a dime yourself... but DO feel free to refer people who may require the products/services!) "Feed Your Pet Well" is the site name and I will feature it here soon.
Ani Dorje has moved up to SUPER NUN status for hooking me up with 2 pet sitting gigs already. Woo Hoo!! And of course my friend Rebel has told me from the moment I planned to leave AZ that I should just pet sit for a living... you get to say "I told ya so" if years from now this becomes a successful endeavor! ; ) Hey you can check out my friend Beth's site in Atlanta for inspiration.
Okay - back to the dogs, birds, fisheys and Chinchilla (about the cutest damn thing I have EVER seen in my pet sitting career) and oh yes... chickens too! Love. It.
Greeeeeeeen acres is the place for me...
Friday, August 14, 2009
Taking Out The Trash
Have you ever walked in to your kitchen one day - and the overwhelming smell of something rotting in your waste can just HITS you? ~GAG~ reflex.
It's a profound metaphor. It is something you can sort of "conjure up" in your mind as a common experience when you did a seemingly harmless thing ~like~ maybe you made dinner. As a course of action you simply tossed a raw hamburger tray into the trash - and went on preparing your meal... you enjoyed the food, you cleaned your kitchen... you moved on with life. But somewhere along the way you forgot to take out the trash. And suddenly - your whole house is permeated by this stench that you must reckon with. It is not a HORRRIBLE TRAGEDY. It is simply a chore that you need to complete.
I want to sort of paint that picture because everybody can relate to it. Then I want to relate it to somebody who I NEVER MET but knew of from being a member of the temple. That young woman (well - no idea what her exact age is - but I will call her a "young woman") has ~oddly~ won a little bit of my respect, after a decade of scrathcing my head everytime I thought about what I "thought" she had done.
Turns out she had just made dinner. But I was fixated on how she never took out the trash.
She did a scary, but brave thing recently. She did something that I have seen SO FEW people in this world do. Politicians, actors, athletes... you name the profession and there are people who have made mistakes. They may have even gone to war with the party, studio or team that they once played for - and it becomes quite an epic battle. All in the name of "keeping the spot light" focused on a moment that has passed. It is over. Done. Finis.
Well Michelle Grissom is somebody whose story I certainly had heard - but I never knew that she was involved (under many pseudonyms) with some of the other issues that have plagued us as an organization.
Yes, people and communities part ways sometimes. Not everybody who walks into a church, temple, University, civic club or organization is always going to agree with all that happens there. But for some reason - KPC has often received SCATHING criticism from sources that were simply "over exagerating" things that happened. And drama and scandal make good readership (you KNOW you all glance at the Enquirer as you check out in the grocery store. You may not believe what you see - but it permeates a place where you spend time - and it filters into your culture.)
I personally have lost sleep over some of the articles THAT WE KNEW WERE LIES and wondered how things got so blown out of proportion. Many are seeded in the issues that Michelle discusses in this post.... but I admire her courage in clearing the record from her end.
If you have been reading my blog for a while you know that I (at a few different times) took up the keyboard against some people she mentions directly in her post. That is because they were attacking ME simply for having a teacher and practicing the dharma. And why? Because they left unhappy? It is hard to admit when we feel defeated. But Ms. Grissom does an admirable job in this post owning up to a lot of the sparks she tossed out that grew into fires, and how she and others fanned the flames out there in the strange obsession people who part ways with Jetsunma and KPC as a practice community feel once they've gone. It is bizarre sometimes.
~Any How~ I thank her for these words. It is not as though she is unaware of the work involved in confession and purification practices. All religions and philosophies have their version. But in Buddhism it is not about wallowing in guilt. It is akin to taking out the trash when the kitchen stinks. You don't have to filter through each nasty piece and wallow in its putrid qualities. You just need to remove the rotten stuff from the wholesome place you prepare your meals. Both exist in your mind - and that is the ultimate spiritual kitchen! I believe she has many delicious meals still to prepare in hers.
Well done Michelle. And (for the record) I was happy to see you here in KPC this past weekend... even though you had no idea I saw you here or even knew your name! I was a bit shocked when your name first popped up on my radar (I receive the donation alerts from Tara.org) especially because Cassidy had just referenced your blog as one of his "proofs" against us. So my defenses went up. But seeing you and your mom in the dharma room... it felt right.
And as you sat chatting with someone (Paljor, I think) in the Solarium - I walked by you and prayed that you were happy in your life now and that you felt welcome here.
Reading your post tonight [when my "Google Alert" for certain topic appeared]... I must say you made restitution on ten years of confusion that I have felt towards a young nun named Dechen who I never even met!
Tashi Delek. AND I will say hello next time I see you around here.
Peace ya'll. And go read her story. It is heartfelt, brave and inspiring for any of us who have ever had to humbly admit to things that did not necessarily say "I AM RIGHT!"
It's a profound metaphor. It is something you can sort of "conjure up" in your mind as a common experience when you did a seemingly harmless thing ~like~ maybe you made dinner. As a course of action you simply tossed a raw hamburger tray into the trash - and went on preparing your meal... you enjoyed the food, you cleaned your kitchen... you moved on with life. But somewhere along the way you forgot to take out the trash. And suddenly - your whole house is permeated by this stench that you must reckon with. It is not a HORRRIBLE TRAGEDY. It is simply a chore that you need to complete.
I want to sort of paint that picture because everybody can relate to it. Then I want to relate it to somebody who I NEVER MET but knew of from being a member of the temple. That young woman (well - no idea what her exact age is - but I will call her a "young woman") has ~oddly~ won a little bit of my respect, after a decade of scrathcing my head everytime I thought about what I "thought" she had done.
Turns out she had just made dinner. But I was fixated on how she never took out the trash.
She did a scary, but brave thing recently. She did something that I have seen SO FEW people in this world do. Politicians, actors, athletes... you name the profession and there are people who have made mistakes. They may have even gone to war with the party, studio or team that they once played for - and it becomes quite an epic battle. All in the name of "keeping the spot light" focused on a moment that has passed. It is over. Done. Finis.
Well Michelle Grissom is somebody whose story I certainly had heard - but I never knew that she was involved (under many pseudonyms) with some of the other issues that have plagued us as an organization.
Yes, people and communities part ways sometimes. Not everybody who walks into a church, temple, University, civic club or organization is always going to agree with all that happens there. But for some reason - KPC has often received SCATHING criticism from sources that were simply "over exagerating" things that happened. And drama and scandal make good readership (you KNOW you all glance at the Enquirer as you check out in the grocery store. You may not believe what you see - but it permeates a place where you spend time - and it filters into your culture.)
I personally have lost sleep over some of the articles THAT WE KNEW WERE LIES and wondered how things got so blown out of proportion. Many are seeded in the issues that Michelle discusses in this post.... but I admire her courage in clearing the record from her end.
If you have been reading my blog for a while you know that I (at a few different times) took up the keyboard against some people she mentions directly in her post. That is because they were attacking ME simply for having a teacher and practicing the dharma. And why? Because they left unhappy? It is hard to admit when we feel defeated. But Ms. Grissom does an admirable job in this post owning up to a lot of the sparks she tossed out that grew into fires, and how she and others fanned the flames out there in the strange obsession people who part ways with Jetsunma and KPC as a practice community feel once they've gone. It is bizarre sometimes.
~Any How~ I thank her for these words. It is not as though she is unaware of the work involved in confession and purification practices. All religions and philosophies have their version. But in Buddhism it is not about wallowing in guilt. It is akin to taking out the trash when the kitchen stinks. You don't have to filter through each nasty piece and wallow in its putrid qualities. You just need to remove the rotten stuff from the wholesome place you prepare your meals. Both exist in your mind - and that is the ultimate spiritual kitchen! I believe she has many delicious meals still to prepare in hers.
Well done Michelle. And (for the record) I was happy to see you here in KPC this past weekend... even though you had no idea I saw you here or even knew your name! I was a bit shocked when your name first popped up on my radar (I receive the donation alerts from Tara.org) especially because Cassidy had just referenced your blog as one of his "proofs" against us. So my defenses went up. But seeing you and your mom in the dharma room... it felt right.
And as you sat chatting with someone (Paljor, I think) in the Solarium - I walked by you and prayed that you were happy in your life now and that you felt welcome here.
Reading your post tonight [when my "Google Alert" for certain topic appeared]... I must say you made restitution on ten years of confusion that I have felt towards a young nun named Dechen who I never even met!
Tashi Delek. AND I will say hello next time I see you around here.
Peace ya'll. And go read her story. It is heartfelt, brave and inspiring for any of us who have ever had to humbly admit to things that did not necessarily say "I AM RIGHT!"
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Once A Week - Needed or Not
I am trying to at least keep my blog updated once a week. Though the habit is to cave in to the easier utility of Facebook Updates/Twitter tweets... they are shorter and more "pithy".
Tonight I met a key figure in Neuro-smart people stuff. Here name is Candace Pert and if you saw the movie several years ago called "What the (Bleep) Do We Know" then you are somewhat familiar with this amazing woman.
I am too brain-fizzled to blog much tonight, but wanted my faithful Bowdawg readers to know that I am loving ya'll from afar and percolating on some interesting blog worthy topics for to entertain ya!
Just need a little more rest (did I mention the crazy week?) and more time to type (gotta be at temple for a midnight shift in a little while.)
Keep coming back - I'll get my posts posted soon!
Tonight I met a key figure in Neuro-smart people stuff. Here name is Candace Pert and if you saw the movie several years ago called "What the (Bleep) Do We Know" then you are somewhat familiar with this amazing woman.
I am too brain-fizzled to blog much tonight, but wanted my faithful Bowdawg readers to know that I am loving ya'll from afar and percolating on some interesting blog worthy topics for to entertain ya!
Just need a little more rest (did I mention the crazy week?) and more time to type (gotta be at temple for a midnight shift in a little while.)
Keep coming back - I'll get my posts posted soon!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Jetsunma's Digital Tibetan Altar
I am adding a quick post here to point you towards the continuing development of a truly beautiful blog! It is a website which shows a digital tibetan buddhist altar by a living Master in the Vajrayana tradition. Even if you are not a Buddhist - feel free to explore the gorgeous imagery and the age old wisdom represented by the vibrant and dramatic Tibetan iconography.
This is truly a benefit of the electronic age, that one can visit and interact with this wisdom from anywhere in the world with an Internet connection. : )
Devoted practitioners used to take pilgrimage - sometimes only once in the span of their precious human life - and walk to the highest and roughest terrains on the planet to get a simple glimpse or morsel of a teaching from a lama.
Now those very "living treasures" will speak via blog posts and invite you into the beauty of their practice. For that, I exclaim "Eh Ma Ho!" (sort of a Tibetan Buddhist version of Hallelujah!)
Please enjoy Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo's amazing website!
This is truly a benefit of the electronic age, that one can visit and interact with this wisdom from anywhere in the world with an Internet connection. : )
Devoted practitioners used to take pilgrimage - sometimes only once in the span of their precious human life - and walk to the highest and roughest terrains on the planet to get a simple glimpse or morsel of a teaching from a lama.
Now those very "living treasures" will speak via blog posts and invite you into the beauty of their practice. For that, I exclaim "Eh Ma Ho!" (sort of a Tibetan Buddhist version of Hallelujah!)
Please enjoy Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo's amazing website!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Etimology of a Blogger's Name
I am learning as I meet people in "real life" that "met" me online first - that my pen name reads differently than it sounds.
Bowdawg is pronounced as though it is spelled "Beau Dog"... or "Bo Dog".
I hear people pronouncing it like "bow your head for a prayer" or "take a bow after a performance". It is spelled b-o-w because it was originally dubbed by my friend when she combined Rainbow and Bulldog. The universal gay symbol of rainbow collided with my alma mater mascot... like the old "You got your chocolate in my peanut butter" commercials.
But of course in Athens we spell dog... D-A-W-G so as to affect the Southern drawal.
So it is pronounced weird for the spelling - but it does have it's etimology!!
Besides - my other thought for my Blogging Name was "Carrier of Christ, Son of a Hog Farmer" which is a loose translation of the etimology of Christopher Hodgson... but it sounds more like a book title than a pen name, right?
Bowdawg is pronounced as though it is spelled "Beau Dog"... or "Bo Dog".
I hear people pronouncing it like "bow your head for a prayer" or "take a bow after a performance". It is spelled b-o-w because it was originally dubbed by my friend when she combined Rainbow and Bulldog. The universal gay symbol of rainbow collided with my alma mater mascot... like the old "You got your chocolate in my peanut butter" commercials.
But of course in Athens we spell dog... D-A-W-G so as to affect the Southern drawal.
So it is pronounced weird for the spelling - but it does have it's etimology!!
Besides - my other thought for my Blogging Name was "Carrier of Christ, Son of a Hog Farmer" which is a loose translation of the etimology of Christopher Hodgson... but it sounds more like a book title than a pen name, right?
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Netflix Binges
What is lovely about our ever evolving culture is that I can be a hermit with more ease than ever before.
Just after college - when I was at that transition from student to corporate embryo - I spent some months bar tending at Chili's. My girlfriend at the time was a long distance relationship so I stayed alone during the week and there was this new store in Athens called VIDEO WAREHOUSE that was the local mom and pop answer to Blockbuster. They were cheap and open late, so I could stock up on cinematic treats and travesties after a long shift... spending a small penance of my awesome wads of tip cash - and hole up in my apartment off West Broad Street for flicks that did not have to be crowd pleasers.
I am REALLY REALLY good at being a hermit. I love to stay home alone and watch scores of films that other people may find dreadful. Having taken a film class at UGA I have enough interest in aspects of movies that include the angles they are filmed from, the lighting, the ideas that are communicated beyond the "story line" . Even REALLY bad movies often have some charming qualities if you consider what is involved in film making and that the directors, writers and actors had to start from nothing and make a story come to life.
Now I am 17 years older than that period of life and lots of my personal sets, locations and plot lines have changed... but I am still that hermit who LOVES a good movie marathon. I have been on a binge (of late) with the wonders of Netflix. I don't even have to make that post work trip to Video Warehouse and deal with the odd glances of the cashier as they scan the barcodes of my eclectic selection of videos from bad teen romance films to subtitled foreign obscurities.
Now I just cue it up online and wait for the envelopes to arrive. Or when time allows, pull the site up and watch instantly.
I am also ingesting a HUGE volume of books lately. Reading on the metro, on the bus, in whatever coffee house or bookstore is in close proximity to the place I am supposed to be in an hour or two.
It is a delightful muddle of stories and characters all interwoven in my mind these days. I hope someday to noodle out my own story - but for now, the habit of hermitage allows for reading and watching and journaling and is nurturing the side of me that has really fallen into the dumps this past year. I have my midnight prayer shifts for merit and my books and films for contemplating the human condition.
I must confess, this year there was a MUCH larger process of inventorying, reconciling and addressing my inner demons from our relocation back East. "Coming Home" has come with a LARGE undertow of financial ruin, emotional disappointments and depressive events that I had not realized were going to affect my attitude so strongly. Every day we (that is the "universal we" meaning me and the council in my head) make little baby steps up out of the swampy quagmire place in our head... and put on our brave public face long enough for a work shift or a temple appearance, and then we dive summarily and headlong back into our next paragraph or episode and relish the fantasy world that unfolds with a new book or movie or serial program.
A friend today reminded me (with her antecdote of a recent family visit) that it is a tough dance between the world we came from (genialogically speaking) full of wonderful adoring family and friends, and the family we chose later with the task of being midwives to the birth of the American version of Vajrayana and all the challenges that it presents. WE have no elders as a generation of American Buddhists. There were some experimental hippies and zen Buddhist poets in the beat generation... but we are forging the road for generations who shall travel behind us - and our history resides at the top of the world in Tibet ... A plateau far removed from our strange little Western Hemisphere continent built on the backs of have nots to promote the haves' attitudes and culture.
~So~ ...being that this is a "media rich" society that we are living in, I try walking in the light but really paying attention to the shadows... because it is the effective pairing of light and shadow that make a stark contrast and grab the attention of the reader, the watcher, the audience... the unbridled creative mind.
So I will slip away again... to my comfy nook of stories and woven tapestries of fiction based on lives (real or imagined) based on truths (real or imagined) and based on delusion (real... never just imagined!) Art and life are always intertwined and all that "they" say about the relationship between Art and Reality are true. It is a three dimensional play ground. And the spiritual truth is the dutiful chaperone... watching us run rampant around the playscape - but always willing to step in should our playfulness lead us too near danger.
Now come on over here mister Netflix... and spin me another tale!
Peace ya'll.
-Bowdawg
Just after college - when I was at that transition from student to corporate embryo - I spent some months bar tending at Chili's. My girlfriend at the time was a long distance relationship so I stayed alone during the week and there was this new store in Athens called VIDEO WAREHOUSE that was the local mom and pop answer to Blockbuster. They were cheap and open late, so I could stock up on cinematic treats and travesties after a long shift... spending a small penance of my awesome wads of tip cash - and hole up in my apartment off West Broad Street for flicks that did not have to be crowd pleasers.
I am REALLY REALLY good at being a hermit. I love to stay home alone and watch scores of films that other people may find dreadful. Having taken a film class at UGA I have enough interest in aspects of movies that include the angles they are filmed from, the lighting, the ideas that are communicated beyond the "story line" . Even REALLY bad movies often have some charming qualities if you consider what is involved in film making and that the directors, writers and actors had to start from nothing and make a story come to life.
Now I am 17 years older than that period of life and lots of my personal sets, locations and plot lines have changed... but I am still that hermit who LOVES a good movie marathon. I have been on a binge (of late) with the wonders of Netflix. I don't even have to make that post work trip to Video Warehouse and deal with the odd glances of the cashier as they scan the barcodes of my eclectic selection of videos from bad teen romance films to subtitled foreign obscurities.
Now I just cue it up online and wait for the envelopes to arrive. Or when time allows, pull the site up and watch instantly.
I am also ingesting a HUGE volume of books lately. Reading on the metro, on the bus, in whatever coffee house or bookstore is in close proximity to the place I am supposed to be in an hour or two.
It is a delightful muddle of stories and characters all interwoven in my mind these days. I hope someday to noodle out my own story - but for now, the habit of hermitage allows for reading and watching and journaling and is nurturing the side of me that has really fallen into the dumps this past year. I have my midnight prayer shifts for merit and my books and films for contemplating the human condition.
I must confess, this year there was a MUCH larger process of inventorying, reconciling and addressing my inner demons from our relocation back East. "Coming Home" has come with a LARGE undertow of financial ruin, emotional disappointments and depressive events that I had not realized were going to affect my attitude so strongly. Every day we (that is the "universal we" meaning me and the council in my head) make little baby steps up out of the swampy quagmire place in our head... and put on our brave public face long enough for a work shift or a temple appearance, and then we dive summarily and headlong back into our next paragraph or episode and relish the fantasy world that unfolds with a new book or movie or serial program.
A friend today reminded me (with her antecdote of a recent family visit) that it is a tough dance between the world we came from (genialogically speaking) full of wonderful adoring family and friends, and the family we chose later with the task of being midwives to the birth of the American version of Vajrayana and all the challenges that it presents. WE have no elders as a generation of American Buddhists. There were some experimental hippies and zen Buddhist poets in the beat generation... but we are forging the road for generations who shall travel behind us - and our history resides at the top of the world in Tibet ... A plateau far removed from our strange little Western Hemisphere continent built on the backs of have nots to promote the haves' attitudes and culture.
~So~ ...being that this is a "media rich" society that we are living in, I try walking in the light but really paying attention to the shadows... because it is the effective pairing of light and shadow that make a stark contrast and grab the attention of the reader, the watcher, the audience... the unbridled creative mind.
So I will slip away again... to my comfy nook of stories and woven tapestries of fiction based on lives (real or imagined) based on truths (real or imagined) and based on delusion (real... never just imagined!) Art and life are always intertwined and all that "they" say about the relationship between Art and Reality are true. It is a three dimensional play ground. And the spiritual truth is the dutiful chaperone... watching us run rampant around the playscape - but always willing to step in should our playfulness lead us too near danger.
Now come on over here mister Netflix... and spin me another tale!
Peace ya'll.
-Bowdawg
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