If you meet the Buddha on the 'net... You've been punked!

Many years ago, I met and became friends with a man who did more to bring Zen Buddhism to the west than any other. He was a prolific writer, lecturer, and teacher, who could create clear images from the most obscure Zen concepts, and turn koans into poetry. His name was Alan Watts.

I met the man while attending a disciples' retreat at Tasajara Zen Center in the early '70s. Emerging from my first semi-successful experience of shikan taza (just sitting) meditation, I opened my eyes to see his loving face, gazing down at me, both of us seemingly oblivious to the gentle rain that wafted down upon that verdant hillside. All he said was, "It's a beautiful place to be, isn't it?," and I knew he wasn't referring to our location in the woods south of Carmel. The man saw me. Clearly. And touched that place in me that understood. We spoke for some time, and I knew that I had a new friend and teacher.

I never saw Alan again after that retreat, and was saddened to learn, barely a year later, that he had died. His legacy, however, lives on, offering a taste of clarity to those who seek to understand the paradox of Zen.

Now that we're well into a new century - a new millenium, for those who find such things important - a new type of teacher has emerged, claiming to bring the Eight-fold Path to bear upon the world of commerce; a self-proclaimed "Buddha of the Internet," who preaches that the Buddha wants us to have everything we desire, and begs his followers to send him money, so that he can purchase everything he desires, such as an ever-expanding collection of expensive cars, a mansion... well, you get the picture.

This would-be guru also teaches that in order for one's spirit to truly evolve, it is necessary to focus one's gaze only upon positive things, and to turn aside from anything painful, disturbing, or otherwise "negative." He claims that by even acknowledging such "negativity," the seeker blinds him or her self to truth.

Any student of Buddhism knows the fallacy of such teachings. Siddhartha himself grew up in a life of privilege, shielded from the "negativity" of the world by his parents. Somewhere inside, he knew that there was much more to existence than what was visible from his pampered life, and ultimately fled the comfort of his parents' home to find out what it was.

What he found was a world of untold suffering, of people in deep despair and pain, and the discovery left him frantic, devastated. One day, sitting before the river, watching how it flowed so effortlessly, he awakened to a fundamental truth: The suffering we experience is a direct result of our efforts to change the course of our own life's flow. The river flows effortlessly across the face of the earth because it does not strive. It merely flows, guided by natural elements, to its destiny of mingling with the sea. And in that release, the river knows no suffering. If we are to find joy, we must flow like the river, observing the banks, the deeps, and the rapids as we pass, yet not striving to change our own course or the nature of the universe through which our life flows. Our place in the sea awaits, oblivious to our desires or efforts. Siddhartha realized that our suffering is an inescapable product of our desire. Let go of the desire, and suffering ends. With that simple yet profound realization, he achieved true Buddha-hood.

Unfortunately, this new "teacher" is many people's only experience of Buddhism, and they follow, blindly hoping for some morsel to fall from the table of abundance and joy that he claims to experience. While I have no doubt that he has acquired wealth as a result of his teachings, I know the man personally, and know that the joy he dangles before his followers eludes him. Faced with a challenge, be it from someone who doesn't agree, or with the fear that arises from his need to sustain an image, he bears little resemblance to the face he presents to the world at large. He becomes again that frightened little boy who lurked at the fringes of his childhood world, taunted, teased, abused, and feeling unloved and unworthy.

For that little boy that lives inside him, I feel only compassion, and would hug the fear out of him if such were within my power. Yet for the man who enriches himself by distracting and misleading others from their quest for truth, for joy, and for awakening, I feel only disdain. The man knows the fallacy of his words; he has studied enough to understand truth. Yet he chooses illusion, because illusion is easier to sell.

And yet, he does teach me lessons I need to learn. My own disdain is borne of my desire to see truth realized, amplified by my own judgment of those whom I liken to the money changers of Biblical stories. It is my own desire that I must conquer, not the behavior of others. I know this, intellectually, yet that knowledge fails to penetrate to that part of my consciousness that needs no words. And it is little comfort to me to realize that even the Christ grew enraged at the money changers of his day. He obviously had his human moments, times when his Christ-hood eluded him. How could I, a deeply flawed human, far removed from anything resembling Buddha / Christ consciousness, expect to rise above the desires that even those awakened beings felt? Truth is, I can't. My teacher once told me that as long as my footfalls were upon the earth, I wasn't finished yet. He was right. Yet I hunger for that awakening to fill every moment of my life, rather than dancing in and out to the tempo of its circumstances.

Perhaps the time will come when I will look upon those who would spread illusion and wish them well. Perhaps one day, I will know, in every fiber of my being, that those being misguided are at the perfect place on their path. Perhaps there will come a time in my life when I do not strive to right the wrongs I see, or even name them wrongs. I have a little secret to tell you, though. If I ever do get to that point, I won't be here to tell anybody about it, and I most certainly won't be trying to sell it to anyone. I will have joined those wise teachers who have brought truth to us, demanding nothing in return. To flow with my brother river, and to sit again with my friend Alan, delighting in the sound of rain...

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Drawing courtesy of a talented old friend, with whom I've (sadly) lost touch - Jennifer Zimmerman

"I hope he fails"

As expected, President Obama is getting slammed by the far right for everything he does. The same thing happened during the entire Clinton administration, but I actually thought that the fringe element would have gotten a clue - given the results of the last election - that the public has lost patience with partisan sniping at the cost of good governance.

It's been implied that Daschle's failure to pay all his taxes is a failure on the part of the president. First of all, someone in Daschle's position doesn't even do his own taxes, and probably doesn't even look very closely at the returns that are filed, yet the president is somehow supposed to know the details. Such an expectation is obviously agenda-driven, and I think we need to look more closely at that agenda.

We need to ask ourselves some hard questions, and look for some honest answers. For years, our country has been controlled by people we didn't elect, and who operated in an atmosphere free of real oversight. Corporate CEOs and industry lobbyists actually drafted legislation that eliminated government constraints upon their activities, then paid our elected officials to pass those laws for a willing president - whose "success" throughout his career was entirely beholden to the same CEOs - to sign.

The results? Insurance companies no longer have to actually pay valid claims. Credit card companies can charge pretty much whatever they want, literally trapping even honest cardholders into being responsible for paying exhorbitant additional fees, for actions over which they have no control. Oil companies post record profits, even as they drink deeply from the well of government subsidies. Corporations get tax breaks for eliminating American jobs and replacing them with foreign labor. Those same corporations are even given incentives to move offshore, where they are exempt from paying a significant portion of their taxes. Daschle's situation - even if it represents intentional avoidance, which nobody has established - is a drop in a very large bucket by comparison.

Mortgage lenders and financial firms have been freed of the constraints that prevented them from taking ridiculous risks and strongly encouraging their customers to spend money those customers couldn't remotely afford. Sure, those customers who bought homes beyond their budgets or made pie-in-the-sky investments share responsibility, but no more than does the industry that prodded them into making commitments that the industry knew would likely be broken.

Now that the bottom has all but fallen out, the right has plainly stated that they want a hugely popular president to fail, even if it means the destruction of the country's well-being. Rush Limbaugh, of all people, has come to be the titular head and spokesman of the far right. The very "conservatives" (and I use the term very loosely, with tongue firmly in cheek) who dug the hole in which we currently find ourselves are demanding that we give them back the shovel.

I think that the controversy over the capping of CEO salaries is a pretty good metaphor for the overall attitude of the right. They seem to feel that a CEO who has led a business into failure should justifiably be given millions of dollars in salary & bonuses, even as he (or she) dictates the elimination of thousands of citizens' jobs. Even worse, that CEO has the gall to literally demand that the government fork over billions of dollars to bail the company out, yet have no voice in what the company does with the money. Banks took $350 billion, with the intent that the money would be used to free up credit and stimulate the ecopnomy. Did they free up credit? No... they simply did what they thought would enhance their own bottom lines, and then refused to disclose what they did with the money. We took a real screwing on that one, and the banks are laughing, all the way to... well, you know.

Our elected officials are sworn to uphold the Constitution, and to defend it from all enemies, both foreigh and domestic. I say it's time we enforce that oath. If an elected official is complicit in drafting and enacting laws that enrich donors and lobbyists at the cost of constituents' well-being, they will have aided and abetted the criminal acts of a domestic enemy, and should face the full force of the criminal justice system. Same goes for officials who subvert the Constitution for their own cynical purposes. We've sat idly as our "leaders" have sold our children's future in order to line their own pockets. It's time to stop. If we don't do it now, things will just get worse. Better to fix a problem now, before the culture we so cherish is destroyed. Fixing it later will be infinitely more painful.

Just Sitting...

Some years ago, I taught several series of classes at a local church, presenting the principles of ZaZen meditation in a manner comprehensible to and practicable by the Western mindset. The instruction began by encouraging participants to recall childhood memories wherein external social/parental influences were absent (ie: daydreaming).

As children mature and are more effectively socialized, they learn to respond to "appropriate" stimuli with "appropriate" behavior, the result being that they are conditioned to ignore or set aside such frivolous activities in favor of more "productive" behaviors. "Don't waste your time! Get up and do something... Clean your room... Do your homework!" The message is clear: Put aside childish things. And the comforting silence we once knew is displaced.

As adults, we westerners are usually taught to access that meditative state by struggling to suppress all external stimuli, which is very difficult. The more we attempt to set aside random thoughts, the more we focus upon them. "Do not think of a white horse." What image is in your mind as you read that admonition? Inevitably, a white horse.

An alternative - and simpler, more effective - method is to allow the stream of collective stimuli to wash over us unchecked and un-responded-to. The internal "conversation" merges into little more than mental "white-noise," and we once again experience the sense of stillness / peace that we knew as toddlers, gazing up at the clouds, and turning them into grand galleons. The "matters of consequence" that so fill our minds diminish into a communal flow, with no single thought being any more prevalent than any other. It is during this process that we are able to look objectively, dispassionately at our life, to make pragmatic decisions and take truly productive action. Thus, allowing the free-flow of consciousness becomes every bit as important to our well-being as is cleaning up our room or doing our homework. We act with integrity, freed from the "issues" that cloud our reason and, ultimately, freed from the expectations borne of past hurts and lingering fears.

The ultimate goal of the practice of ZaZen meditation (at least in our physical state) is for the galleons to dissolve, and for even our thoughts to fade into white noise. Such a state is called Shikan-Taza, or "just sitting." The elation of perceived "victories," as well as the hurts of perceived "defeats" hold little sway over us. They, too, have dissolved into a place of balance, and the discord that once ruled our lives loses its power.

Of course, this state isn't permanent, at least, not so long as we're here being humans and getting what we need from our human journey. What does linger, however, is our memory of that sense of peace, and our deepest hunger is to return to that stillness. In our anger, we recall that serene place. In our sadness, we remember moments of joy. And even in the manic elation that so fills us in moments of supreme "success," the silent seed of "just sitting" beckons. The more we heed that beckoning call, the less time we spend in the illusion of discord. We learn that the only "Truth" is a place that transcends even our limited perception of Love. And in that sweet space, we REALize how profound is the statement that Love leaves nothing undone.

And even when we're being fearful, obnoxious a**holes, the memory of that stillness lingers a mere heartbeat below the turbulence. Not demanding. Just sitting...

Namasté

Upon the wings of forgotten music...

Sometimes, when the mood strikes, when boredom precludes other ventures, or when something in me longs for remembrance, I drag out my little Ipod and see where it will take me. It still amazes me that something the size of a postage stamp can hold a full day's worth of music. It should come as no surprise to those who know me that the music I have loaded into the diminutive machine is, for the most part, of a generation that is now slipping rapidly into old age. My generation.

As I listen to the anthems of my youth, I am transported back, to a time when so many things really mattered, and when my passions were never too far below the surface of my thoughts. I find myself filled with a deep longing, not for a return to those times, but rather to the consciousness and passion that so filled me then. And to the sense that there was something more to me than my functionality, my accomplishments (or lack thereof), and my many mistakes and failures. There was so much before me back then, and I find myself wondering where all that potential went, and how much of it is left. And most poignantly, I find myself hoping that there might still remain some spark of the best that I thought I could be.

Some songs fill me with a bittersweet sadness. "Child's Song" by Tom Rush reminds me of the time when I finally sought a path apart from my parents', and departed without the anger that had become such a predominant part of our relationship. Another of his songs, "Old Man's Song," reminds me of a rapidly approaching Autumn. Yet I do not feel the hopeless frustration he describes; perhaps I have simply not reached that feeble time. Or, perhaps I have found a path that will keep the regrets of old age at bay. Only time will tell.

Other songs remind me of loves past; the beautiful muse who held such a huge part of my soul for most of my adult life; the lovely "platonic" friend in college - we only acknowledged having been in love with each other as our paths were to diverge forever, her to Alaska, and me to serve in the Navy. There were the many random infatuations that touched me over the years, each returning for a moment of silent acknowledgment. The wife who bore me the greatest blessings any human may experience. I can barely recall the anger at our ending, for clinging to the pain serves me no purpose. Better to simply love and let go. And there was the one woman to whom I finally shared the core of my ugliness, and who loved me, nonetheless. Taught me, at long last, not to hate myself. To each of these, I can conjure only tenderness, and recall only love. There is no need to go back, and no longing to do so. I have been graced with their presence, and hold the sweetness of that presence still. The woman who shares my life and my heart nowadays knows the stories. Knows their place at the table of my reverie. And is herself touched that I now choose to give my love to her.

Perhaps I am trapped in a time-warp of sorts. Few examples of modern music touch my soul as do those shining moments we now call "classic rock." I have no doubt that each generation clings tightly to "their" music, not so much for the inherent genius it represents, but rather for the instantaneous transport it provides, a free ticket to dreams nearly forgotten. A rekindling of potential, to remind us that it has been neither lost nor wasted.

And then, just as I feel so fully immersed in sweet melancholy, the wisdom of my Ipod hears the beating of my heart, and shifts completely the mood of its offerings. Jethro Tull, Hendrix, Bugs Henderson, Crosby Stills & Nash, and finally, the greatest hard rock band of all time. Funny... as "Whole Lotta Love" screams through my head, I might as well be sitting in the back of Michael's old yellow van as we - loves of our semester in tow - careen through the winding paths of the Piney Woods, in search of a perfect sunset (or at least a couple cases of Boone's Farm from the liquor store across the county line). Makes my eyes red every time I hear it. And wouldn't you know it? It just now began to play. The Ipod knows, and is all-wise. And I am compelled to listen, and again to follow those forgotten paths. Perhaps even to "go into the kitchen, make me something good to eat..." as that fine troubadour Jonathan Edwards used to say. It's a good place to be, and I thank all those who have joined me on that journey, even if only for a moment.

Ya just can't make this stuff up!

Well, our newest political rock star has done it again, sticking her expensively-shod foot in her perennially open mouth. I'm referring to her having fallen hook, line, and sinker for a prank call from a well-known Canadian radio personality, posing as French Prime Minister Sarkozy.

I won't include the text of the entire call here, since it is available elsewhere. However, I think it worth noting that, given the McCain / Palin's vehement (and misleading) rejection of what they claim to be Obama's willingness to meet with foreign leaders "without preconditions," it would seem that one essential precondition to engaging in a discussion with any foreign leader would be knowing who you're actually talking to! Palin apparently disagrees.

I'm certainly not in a position where anything I say (or write) might affect American policy, much less, national security, but if I received a call from someone I didn't know well enough to immediately recognize, I certainly wouldn't discuss my own or a client's personal matters without at least verifying the caller's identity and the appropriateness of their call. And perhaps I'm just a bit too careful, but I consider any dialog with a head of state to be at least significant enough to warrant a modicum of caution. Apparently, Ms. Palin doesn't share that sense of caution.

Despite what any thinking person (or at least, one not blinded by their own ambition) would recognize as clues as to the absurdity of the call, Ms. Palin marched right along... a challenging task, what with both feet, and the greater portion of her lovely legs, now firmly implanted in her gullet. Asked about hunting wolves from helicopters and the joy of killing things, she just palled up to the idea. Offered a degree of sympatico at the veracity of being able to see another country as a requisite for knowing anything about that country, one could virtually see Palin nodding in agreement. Even when the fake Sarkozy spoke approvingly of a porn flick starring a Palin lookalike, Palin didn't blink. She never blinks, remember?

Now, I'm sure that even as her handlers and spin-meisters try to present her as "just being a good sport," they're undoubtedly wishing they could just slap a muzzle on her. Beyond the inevitable giggles this latest faux pas will incite, and the addition of another challenge to a campaign that has been brilliant in adding to its own challenges, this latest incident begs - and sadly, answers - one very serious question: Is this woman qualified and prepared to step into the role of vice president, much less, president?

I would challenge anyone to put aside the partisan spin - from either side - stop the giggling, and answer that question honestly. Their answer should reverberate in their mind as they stand in the voting booth on Tuesday, poised to make a decision that will itself reverberate throughout the world for at least the next four years.

Myself, I want someone who blinks. Or thinks about blinking. Or at the very least, thinks.

Where from here?

As the sun sets golden behind the western peaks of the Sangre de Cristo, lines of celebrants stream down from the mountain, their torches dancing and flickering in the whisper of dusk's breeze. Far below, the throng awaits, their chatter silenced as the torch-bearers approach.

From the silence rises a lone cry, "Burn Him!" Then another. From a few scattered voices, the cry is taken up until the din of it is literally deafening.

BURN HIM!!

In closely choreographed movements, the torch-bearers cast their flaming brands at the feet of the effigy, and as the flames consume it, screams issue from the loudspeaker in the marionette's head. And in mere moments, once the figure is consumed in flame, the crowd squeals and screams with orgasmic delight. Zozobra is dead.

Of course, this is just a big, harmless party, its attendees bent upon casting out the demons of gloom that have haunted them during the year, and bidding that gloom to be gone from the year before them.

Leaving the desert, we enter an arena, filled with revelers clutching "America First" signs. From somewhere in the midst of the crowd arises a cry of "Traitor!" From across the room, "Socialist!" And from another section, "Kill Him!" as the host of the party simply - and silently - smiles.

The similarity between the two scenarios is chilling. One can only wonder when the torches will begin streaming down from the far reaches of the stadium, and whether, given their preference, the celebrants might delight in the screaming agony of a black-faced effigy, bedecked in a three-piece suit, as it is engulfed in that cleansing flame.

God Bless America. What have we become?

McSocialism defined

The McCain campaign has gone to great lengths to paint Barack Obama as a socialist, in hopes of frightening undecided voters. What they apparently fail to realize is that at least some of those undecideds actually know how to use http://www.factcheck.org to verify the truth of their accusations. Furthermore, they seem to think that Americans are either too stupid or lack memory capacity sufficient to recall the McCain campaigns own words and actions. As noted in a New Yorker article penned by Hendrik Hertzberg*

"During the 2000 campaign, on MSNBC’s “Hardball,” a young woman asked him why her father, a doctor, should be “penalized” by being “in a huge tax bracket.” McCain replied that “wealthy people can afford more” and
that “the very wealthy, because they can afford tax lawyers and all kinds of loopholes, really don’t pay nearly as much as you think they do.” The exchange continued:

YOUNG WOMAN: Are we getting closer and closer to, like, socialism and stuff?. . .

MCCAIN: Here’s what I really believe: That when you reach a certain level of comfort, there’s nothing wrong with paying somewhat more.

For her part, Sarah Palin, who has lately taken to calling Obama “Barack the Wealth Spreader,” seems to be something of a suspect character herself. She is, at the very least, a fellow-traveller of what might be
called socialism with an Alaskan face. The state that she governs has no income or sales tax. Instead, it imposes huge levies on the oil companies that lease its oil fields. The proceeds finance the government’s activities and enable it to issue a four-figure annual
check to every man, woman, and child in the state. One of the reasons Palin has been a popular governor is that she added an extra twelve hundred dollars to this year’s check, bringing the per-person total to $3,269. A few weeks before she was nominated for Vice-President, she
told a visiting journalist—Philip Gourevitch, of this magazine—that “we’re set up, unlike other states in the union, where it’s collectively Alaskans own the resources. So we share in the wealth when the development of these resources occurs.” Perhaps there is some meaningful
distinction between spreading the wealth and sharing it (“collectively,” no less), but finding it would require the analytic skills of Karl the Marxist."

C'mon, John & Sarah... at least give voters credit for being intelligent enough to observe and remember what you say and do before you accuse the other guy of doing it!

Barn Dogs

Update: Finally able to get a shot of this sweet elderly lady.
Don't know her real name, but we call her Betty!

This is a wolf-Malmute hybrid who we call Kenai,
after the Alaska Peninsula where my kids live.

And this is a hound we call Luke, who was the first to "adopt" us.

I'm going to depart from my regularly scheduled rant, and talk about something that brings me real joy. Out here on the ranch, there are quite a few dogs and horses - most of them rescues - who owe their well-being (if not their lives) to the compassion of a woman named Amy, daughter of Tennessee Titans owner Bud Adams. (We seem to have a tendency to live next to sweet dog-lovers. Our last neighbor is the President of the Homeless Pet Placement League in Houston. Another sweetheart!) Many of the dogs live in fenced-off yards, but the most sociable are allowed to roam free on the ranch. And a few of them have adopted Connie and I.

I say adopted, but what has actually happened is that they have grown accustomed to the 6PM suppers we offer, the morning treats, and the affection we bestow upon them. They have us pretty well trained.

At first, we felt sorry for them, since they didn't have warm houses, soft beds, or people they could claim as their own. But that perspective was based more upon our own preconceptions than upon actual circumstance. No, they don't have warm houses; what they do have is a collection of barns and garages where they can huddle together against the cold, or hide from the sun on the most blistering summer days. Their beds are wherever they want them to be, frequently in our garage, or on the soft grass of our lawn. They wander as they please (and seem to know that the road is not a good place to go), with no demands placed upon them. They swim in the pond when they feel like it, play in the pastures, and grace us with their presence when they see fit. Oh... they also manage to show up at 6 on the nose every afternoon, and announce their availability for the feeding ritual. Most nights, they stay right here until we're ready to shut the garage door and turn in for the night.

Our feed bill has gone up considerably since they made us a part of their routine, but I can't imagine anything we could spend that money on that would give us so much in return. You see, these guys are living the life that most people only dream about. Their needs are met. They are loved (probably by more folks than we are aware of). And they have the kind of freedom that we humans only know as children, and most, not even then.

We like to tell ourselves that they love us as much as we've grown to love them. Might be little more than a fantasy, but I doubt it, because even when they're hungry, they still belay their feasting for as long as one of us offers a kind word and a scratch behind the ears. Ever since losing my beloved Rex, shortly after moving to the ranch, there's been an empty place that only a big, friendly dog can fill. And these guys do a great job of filling that hole in my heart. I only wonder if they know how precious they have become to us. I hope so.

Rogue? Diva? Nah... Just bein' Sarah!

I had already decided to vote against John McCain before the Republican convention. Upon looking past his press kit and learning about his history, I learned that he was really no different from Dubya, with the exception of having actually served in and being shot down over North Vietnam, and being held as a POW for several years. Yet even that entry on his bio is not particularly accurate. Still a child of privilege who used it to get things he wasn't qualified for.

Once I heard who he had chosen as his running mate, I decided to not merely vote against him, but to actively support whoever was most likely to defeat him: Barack Obama. What I had not expected was that as I learned more about Obama, I would come to respect him and actually see his candidacy as being far more than just an alternative to McPalin's. He actually holds the promise of healing the wounds of the last 8 years, both here in the US and abroad.

The bottom line is that McCain's selection of Sarah Palin was nothing more than a political stunt, performed to further his own ambitions, no matter the cost to the well-being of the country. Nobody with a brain and an ounce of integrity could honestly say that she was the most qualified Republican available for the ticket. And after hearing and seeing her, it is pretty obvious that she's far from being qualified for even a cabinet position, much less second in command.

Lately, McCain's advisors are complaining that she's "gone rogue," acting in complete defiance of her advisors and handlers. Well, guess what, guys & gals... she's just doing what the people who've worked with her say she's always done: looking out for #1. And I'll give you a clue: #1 is not this country, Alaska, or even her family. It's queen Sarah, the Thrilla from Wasilla. She has dreams of being the Republicans' candidate for the top slot in 2012, and I, for one, hope she gets it. I can't imagine anyone who would be better to ensure that the Republicans remain locked out of the White House for at least another 4 years. The Democrats will surely screw things up in their own fashion, but at least the economy will improve, and we won't be getting daily body-count figures on the news every night.

So here's to you, Governor Palin! Keep on marching to that different drummer that only you can hear. You might get another 15 minutes in a few years, but I doubt it. Recent history notwithstanding, the Republicans simply aren't that stupid. And given 4 or 8 years, they might even realize how they screwed the pooch these last 10 years, abandon their "compassionate conservative" identity, and get back to their roots as real conservatives. If not, they'll end up descending into the same pit of obscure irrelevance that you have dug for yourself. Hell... I'll even spring for the cost of another shovel!

The "W Syndrome" in action

Reading the headlines on CNN.com this morning, I was struck by the realization that, while the Republicans have tried to turn Obama's past marijuana & coke use into a deal-killer, it seriously looks like they've recruited Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds to head up their campaigns.

Sounds ludicrous, I know. At least it did until one really thinks about the fact that they are actually supportive of Joe the Plumber's announcement on conservative talk radio host Laura Ingraham's program that he's considering a run for Congress in 2010.

I mean, think about it... The guy is planted by Republicans to pull a "gotcha" on Obama, misrepresents himself (he's not even a licensed plumber, and is in no position to even consider buying the plumbing company where he works), and the sham is publicly exposed. Now, the guy's attempts to extend his 15 minutes would be pathetic enough, but as it turns out, the Republican machine is not only supporting the idea, they are excited about it! Ingraham said she would lend her assistance, and the National Republican Congressional Committee welcomed Joe's candidacy with "open arms.”

The more I think about it, the more I come to realize that these folks aren't actually tripping. They're desperate. They see their grip on the political brass ring slipping rapidly away, and are willing to do whatever is necessary to get it back, even to the point of fielding candidates with some degree of personal appeal in lieu of capacity for governance.

First, we had the hockey mom whose primary claim to political fame was as governor of Alaska, where the biggest problem she faced was getting a few pennies more from the oil companies to give to her constituents. Never mind the inconsistency of these actions with her frequent rails against socialism. She's cute, and can appeal to those people whose eyes glaze over when someone starts actually discussing policies.

Now, we have a pretend-plumber who read his lines well enough, but obviously started zoning out when Obama began answering his questions. What's next... a 35-year-old in a persistent vegetative state, held up as a role model for other comatose citizens?

I can understand why the "machine" would support such candidates. After all, look how easily they were led into situations so clearly beyond their capacities. They don't even seem to be aware that they're far out of their depth. One can imagine how easily they could be handled if they were actually to win the offices they seek. Kind of like Bush, but without the personal agenda.

Nope, the machine isn't tripping on acid. They're running on empty, and frantically searching for some foothold. If they succeed, it won't reflect poorly on them. They're just doing their cynical best to survive. It will reflect pretty badly on the intelligence and values of us citizens, however. But maybe having been a laughing stock and pariah to the rest of the world for 8 years, we've actually grown accustomed to it, even learned to prefer such a distinction. I think I'll call it the "W Syndrome." I sure hope there's a cure. If not, we'll all need some of that acid before long.

Careful... it's "Them!"

I don't blog here very often. Most of my blogosphere energies are devoted to discussions on other boards, such as my friend Steve Salerno's SHAMblog or my beloved Connie's Whirled Musings. But every once in awhile - like today - I find myself wanting to get something off my chest sans the filters of someone else's topics.

These last few days, we've seen the presidential campaign deteriorate pretty badly, its rhetoric consisting of far more mud than relevant information. I had expected as much, given the presence of Rove and Schmidt. To be honest, I was surprised that John McCain would choose to avail himself of their "expertise" in guiding his campaign, especially given the hatchet job they'd done on him in 2000, followed by his pledge to keep his campaign clean and eschew the mud-slinging. I had always thought of the man as being honorable... that is, until he sold his integrity after 2000 for a place at the table. Sadly, he was not the only one. Even Colin Powell, whom I really admired for a long time, abandoned his principles and was admitted to the Big House. Unlike McCain, however, Powell has belatedly and publicly acknowledged his error, restoring a modicum of his integrity, if not his political career.

The recent turn of events inspired me to look more closely at all the candidates. I felt that I had obviously missed something about McCain's motivation (and perhaps even his character), and felt obligated to educate myself fully before casting a vote. Well, I have to tell you... what I found out was distressing, to say the least.

The more I dug to find the truth about the "dirt" that was being shoveled on the Obama campaign, the more I discovered that the worst of it was either a mountain from molehill spin on insignificant events, or completely fabricated. The Swiftboats had obviously been loosed. Thankfully, the American public is, as a whole, more sophisticated this time around, and isn't being swayed the way they were in 2004. Frankly, the more I dug, the more convinced I became that Obama was our best hope for setting aright the excesses, abuses, and downright malfeasance of the last 8 years.

Conversely, the more I dug into McCain's story, the uglier it got. That he pretends to be above the muckraking fray, while sending out his "pitbull with lipstick" to shovel the hate was only the start. As it turns out, even my earlier image of him was based upon a carefully articulated and publicized persona that bears scant resemblance to the real man. Rather than compile a list of everything I found, I suggest you read an article that appeared in, of all places, Rolling Stone magazine. While the tenor of the article is certainly indicative of a strong negative bias, the incidents and events described therein are presented with surprising accuracy, and paint a picture of a narcissistic, spoiled brat who typically throws tantrums when things don't go his way. It offers new insight into his chosen moniker of Maverick, which, as it turns out, came into common use after a man by that name made his fortune in the 1800s by discretely stealing others' cattle. I strongly recommend that you read the article, and do your own research to determine how credible it is to you. Here's the link.

Now... to the "them" part...

I read in the paper the other day a remark that Gov. Palin had made some remarks about Sen. Obama that a few pundits and commentators were claiming had racist overtones. She had been telling audiences that Obama "Doesn't see America the same way you and I see America," punctuated with her trademark conspiratorial (and perversely flirtatious) wink and smile. I initially took those analyses with more than a grain of salt, having heard Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton cry racial wolf too many times to take the accusation seriously any more. |Then, a couple of nights ago, I was lying in bed and recalled a conversation I'd overheard as a kid. The people at the next table in a cafe were discussing "colored" people, and I recall them saying, "Niggers are different from us. They don't see things like you and I do."

You betcha, Sara... We get it.
Recalling that conversation, along with the mindset it represented for so many people in pre-civil rights Texas, literally made a chill run down my back. Despite my having been desensitized by the Sharpton effect, I clearly saw the message behind Palin's remarks, and her attempt at cuteness was revealed for the meanness that it truly represented. Upon researching her activities in Alaska before hitting the national stage, I discovered that the meanness I had only just begun to see had long ago been accepted as common knowledge. Compounding her obvious lack of qualifications for the role of vice president or (shudder) president, it appears that she lacks the temperament to deal with the complex negotiations that will certainly face the next administration.

The fact that the Republican party has at least publicly rallied behind the McCain/Palin ticket has to leave an objective voter wondering. Is "America first" merely a campaign buzz phrase, or does it really translate to "Republican America first?" In private, even the most conservative pundits are questioning the viability - much less, the qualifications - of their current ticket. Some have even come out publicly and stated that Palin is clearly not vice presidential material. But of course, there are those who blindly accept anything their party (or candidate) does, no matter how disingenuous, but such myopic individuals (some of whom, I've had "interesting" discussions with - and blogged about - in the past) are thankfully members of a fringe minority, on both far ends of the political spectrum, and don't represent a significant voting bloc. Judging by recent polls, I am confident that reason will win out over fear, that truth will emerge as a more valuable commodity than meanness, and that we'll finally see the folly in creating more and more images of a malevolent, collective "them" that really exist only in our own fears and biases. We'd better pray (or hope, if that works better for you) that my confidence is well-founded, because if it's not, we may well see this fine experiment in democracy falter and fade, just as others have done in the past.

Who ya' gonna blame?

It's been far too long since I've blogged, but the events of the recent past compel me to do so now, if only to knock the cobwebs off the page. I have plenty of excuses for not visiting this space more frequently: elderly parent (and surrogate parent) health issues, pressing deadlines, and the usual suspects of scrambling to keep the fiscal wolf from the door. But let's put those excuses aside for a bit, and allow me - if you will - a few moments of rambling.

I have participated in a few other blogs in the last few months, and to my credit, have made myself an enemy. A particularly sad individual, who wails at the inherent evil of anyone who might remind him of the woman who "done him wrong." Hating liberals, lefties, Democrats, New age believers, Buddhists, women, and pretty much anyone else who doesn't share his rage. It's their fault that his wife left him; all would have been wonderful, had those horrible instigators not encroached upon the idyllic life that he and his woman shared. They just filled her head with all kinds of occult nonsense, and transformed a wonderful woman into a man-killing machine.

I'd like to say that I've never cast blame on anyone and everyone for my own misfortunes; there have been a couple of times in my life when I raged against any and all who wouldn't offer me the succor I demanded. After a bit of time had allowed me to cool off, however, I realized that the single common factor in every one of my failures was myself. It took no small degree of effort, but I eventually realized that blaming everything but myself not only failed to resolve the situation, it made me look like a whining little boy. Of course, at that point, a whining little boy was exactly what I was. I was hurting because I hadn’t gotten what I needed / wanted, and the best way to hide from the hurt was to slather it with a thick coat of anger. Even considering the possibility that I was acting out of my own pain – and the fear of suffering even more pain – was intolerable to me. So the wall stayed up until I grew strong enough to tear it down.

I won’t try to tell you that once the wall was torn down, it stayed down. Heck no… fear has the insidious ability to sneak up on us, and we have the tendency to synaptic response when we are confronted with it. Each new situation carries with it new challenges, and new temptations to revert to that state of whining adolescence. Our job as adults is to try and recognize that whining kid before he starts shooting his mouth off and defining us as whiners. When I see my new “friend” demanding his rage, his pound of flesh, and the agreement of all who will listen, my initial response is to pat him on the head and tell him to grow up a bit. When he gets really obnoxious, raging ever more loudly at anything resembling reason, I eventually disengage from the discussion.

You see, I really liked getting into bar fights once upon a time, but that time passed many years ago, when it occurred to me that wading into an unnecessary fight didn’t make me look stronger; it made me look like an insecure asshole. Even though I emerged from the majority of those confrontations less bloodied than my opponents, I found that even when I “won,” I felt diminished. And when my enemy du jour fell short of being an even match for me, I ended up feeling pretty dirty. It actually felt better to be bloodied than to know that I had taken advantage of another’s weakness. And that’s how I started feeling with my new opponent. I received private messages from other participants, congratulating me on having shown him for what he really was, yet such accolades felt empty. I had added to the hurt of someone who was obviously overwhelmed already; hardly something to be proud of.

In the final analysis, I can’t blame anyone else when I fail to live up to my own beliefs, any more than the other guy can realistically blame anyone else for his own failures. Will I be nicer to the guy? Probably… by working really hard to avoid getting sucked into his game of fear/hurt/rage. Will I continue to respond to his more ludicrous judgments, directed at anyone not within his little circle of acceptability (like the “circle of trust” in Meet The Fokkers)? Probably. Hopefully, I’ll remember to avoid the pissing contest aspect of it, however. If I need that, there’s a biker bar not too far from here…

Oh, and by the way... My ex-wife left me because I wasn't a very good husband. What she did to accomplish leaving was simply the best way she could manage to get it done. Wasn't the best way, perhaps, but it worked. I was angry for awhile, but nowadays, I can look her in the eye and honestly tell her I love her, and she can do the same with me. Perhaps the fact that we live 4,000 miles from each other helps, but I like to think there's some maturity in the mix, too. On both our parts.

Tearful Salvation

Seems like I remember a less-enlightened time, during which the boys and men of my generation had it drummed into our heads that guys don't cry, and that doing so was a sign of weakness. Then came the "enlightened" days, when we marched, Alan Alda-like, into the heretofore uncharted realm of our own sensitivity.

Unfortunately, we got carried away with the concept, giving rise to a modern-day class of castrati known as metrosexuals. Guys (well, some) primped and preened, and cried at all the right places while watching chick-flicks and Hallmark commercials. Some even went so far as to wear makeup and get pedicures. Too much bother, in my book, but some folks went in for it in a big way.

Ahh... how the pendulum swings. Now, it isn't only men who are supposed to suppress and deny their "unmanly" feelings. We're all - guys and gals alike - supposed to focus only upon our joy, casting our sadness and bitterness aside. Never mind that those "negative" emotions were the very tools we used to learn the value of happiness. Never mind that our "failures" paved the way for our greatest successes, bestowing upon us the humility required to truly appreciate our victories.

Despite what the New Age would have us believe, our tears are cathartic, and are typically the foundation upon which our most heartfelt laughter is built.

As a child, falling down and skinning my knee would leave me crying, yet my mother's attempts to comfort me left me feeling richer than I had before the fall. On the other hand, efforts to make me "act like a man" only left me angry, and I predict the same outcome from the constant admonition to engage only in "positive thinking."

Sadness is the spice which allows us to truly savor the taste of joy. Anger is the catalyst by which we learn true forgiveness. And failure is the only benchmark against we may measure our success. And when in our lives can we feel more honestly enriched than when we offer a helping hand to one who is struggling? Yet the new "path" suggests that we turn away from such altruism as well, lest we sully our own joy with another's sadness. Without all these "negative" emotions, we can never be whole. Without touching the face of despair, we can never taste the sweetness of jubilation. And thinking we can - or should - merely wish these "negative" elements of life away is a "Secret" best left untold.

Reflections on The Secret

(Originally submitted to Joe Vitale's blog on Feb.24)

I am simultaneously amused and saddened by the discourse surrounding The Secret, as it seems to be a metaphor for the intense polarization that has long replaced true introspection and exchange of ideas.

On the one hand, supporters of the Secret/LOA claim that they represent Universal Law, yet rationalize that any event which might appear to be inconsistent with its status as law is merely a misinterpretation of the "law" or the event itself, along with the implication that the observer misses the point due to his or her own lack of spiritual evolution. This is merely the perpetuation of the early dogmatic teachings of a priest class eager to maintain control over the unsophisticated masses. Such condescension might keep some "believers" in line, but does not serve the quest for spiritual growth.

On the other side, there are those who dismiss any theory which has not been proven with empiric data in numerous studies as being the product of deluded fools. In so doing, they attempt to elevate themselves as being intellectually superior to others. Again, condescension replaces honest efforts to discover truth.

What these people fail to consider is that all instances of human progress were borne of efforts to establish a "truth" that was not previously considered, much less proven. Had Edison followed such a mindset, he would have known - thanks to extensive prior research in metallurgy - that a tungsten filament would not work in an incandescent lamp. He proceeded, however, his enthusiasm based in what *might* be, while facing scorn from the *scientists* of his day.

Somewhere in the middle, there is (IMHO) the presence of real Truth, as opposed to the polarized interpretations of truth. To claim that the universe is like a catalog, and that it is our highest calling to browse that catalog and focus upon our desires runs contrary to the lessons of all major spiritual teachers.

I am especially put off by the notion that in order to achieve a positive life, one must turn one's focus upon what is desired, and away from all things negative. Christian tradition is based upon embracing the less fortunate, and Buddhist tradition is founded in the realization achieved by Siddhartha after he finally emerged from his protected life and observed the sadness that arose from the insatiable fulfillment of desire. He understood that attachment to the "good," as well as avoidance of the "bad" were merely the two sides of the same coin.

He also understood that Right Thinking was powerless without Right Action. Focusing upon a desired outcome was essential, but failure to expend the logical effort to achieve that outcome rendered that Right Thinking powerless.

My greatest objection to the Law of Attraction/Secret phenomenon is that it serves to perpetuate an imbalanced approach to life. I realize that the marketing phenomenon surrounding it is very successful, and that (Vitale is) to be credited in no small part for that success. But I am left to wonder: When sales of this latest, greatest Path to Enlightenment begin to dwindle (as have those previously marketed by the proponents), will yet another, even greater Path be "discovered?" If so, perhaps The Secret/LOA consumers should objectively ask themselves what it really is: A spiritual path or a marketing exercise.

Attack of the Eternally Right

Well, the Rev has obviously been out of school too long. Looking back, I can remember the little cliques that considered themselves “intellectuals.” By and large, they emerged from the Science or Philosophy Clubs in high school, where they would gather to reaffirm their uniqueness in a culture which demanded a conformity and social finesse they somehow lacked. These self-proclaimed intelligentsia were admittedly interesting to talk to, until they began their cerebral wagon-circling, bemoaning the inferiority of those outside their circle. At that point, they became pretty toxic and frankly, boring, and those of us who merely visited on their periphery would inevitably wander off in search of more positive interactions, leaving the kids (typically labeled losers or weirdos) to their cerebral circle jerk.

I’d frankly forgotten about these kids, having long ago discovered that actually living a life was more rewarding than sitting on the outside taking shots at it, and that a sense of wonder was more enriching than pessimistic disenchantment. The other day, however, I discovered that the kids are still around, and just as alienated as ever. Only now, they call themselves skeptics or critical or rational thinkers.

One of them made a statement on a friend’s blog which I didn’t accept, claiming that acupuncture was a magic-based system that had definitively been proven ineffective. I responded that his conclusion – along with the debunking study he referenced – didn’t wash (my first mistake – never engage someone who claims irrefutable rightness!). He fired back that I had offered no studies to support my claim. It hadn’t even occurred to me to do so, as I was under the impression that I had joined in an informal, friendly discussion, where ideas could be exchanged. I went ahead and performed a quick search, which provided studies by the Mayo Clinic, NIH, and the like – hardly lightweight studies – thinking that would be the end of it. To make a very long story short, I was met with a tirade proclaiming the invalidity of the information I provided, peppered with some dismissive name-calling. As you can imagine, I was taken aback, but maintained enough of my naivete to think that some meeting of the minds was possible.

It didn’t take too long before I realized that the individual was more concerned with being right than with enjoying a discussion, and I tipped my hat and exited the pissing contest. Not content to just let it end without his desired resolution, the guy then proceeded to take the dialog up on his own blog, even going so far as to publish a private communication from my lady, whose inclination is always to take the high road and restore civility. I (foolishly) tried to respond to the guy’s rants, which only set him and a few of his fellow “critical thinkers” off even more. It was actually quite similar to incidents I remembered from the old high school days, where we would intentionally push the “intellectuals’” buttons by challenging one of their assumptions, then walk away, leaving them thoroughly agitated and struggling to reassert their “rightness.” Sure, it was mean on the same level as giving my mother's chihuahua an onion to fight with, but it was fun, in a perverse way. I realized (remembered?) the futility of engaging people like that in anything more than superficial dialog, and turned the page on the whole matter. As far as I know, they’re still going on about it, but I’m not interested enough to go back and check.

The whole affair left me with a sense of futility and some sadness. Those feelings, however, are somewhat offset by the knowledge that there will probably always be those who are so heavily invested in their own self-image that any challenge to anything they say or do will be taken as a direct attack upon that self-image, and upon their inherent worth. The challenge for me is to simply walk away from people like that at first sighting, and to allow them to wrap themselves in whatever image makes them most comfortable.

I freely admit to not being a “critical thinker,” as I’d much rather revel in the sense of wonder that is life than to seek out things to endlessly analyze. I further confess to not choosing to be a skeptic about life, but rather a realist. I do not require empirical data to prove to me the existence of things which I do not understand, but neither do I blindly accept that which common sense tells me is false. And I am quite comfortable with acknowledging that I do not have all the answers, since those who make such claims are inevitably shown to have asked the wrong questions, anyway. I live with a woman whom I love deeply, and who loves me, yet if asked to prove it, I would be hard pressed to provide the satisfactory “data.”

And despite the vitriol sent my way, I really hope that one day, these “rational” people will find something besides negativity to fill their lives, and will put aside their obsession with being right long enough to find that life can truly be filled with joy, if one will but clear a space for it.

Note: To all who have been so supportive in their responses (as well as the one individual who attempted to taunt me into rejoining the fray), I want to say "thank you." I have chosen not to publish any of the comments I've gotten - positive or negative - for the same reason I disengaged from the little tempest in a teapot in the first place. It served no positive purpose, and I will not do anything to perpetuate the rancor. Those who need the conflict are certainly welcome to continue it on their own playgrounds. Have a nice day.