Peter Clothier's Blog, page 14
April 10, 2020
GOODWILL
How to send thoughts of goodwill to people you find it so easy to despise? It's a question I suspect many of us stew about at a time when we have nothing but ill feelings toward those whose influence so profoundly affects our lives. The natural... well, instinctive response is the opposite of goodwill. There is some part of me that feels initially gratified when I give vent to the anger, animosity, and vindictiveness that sometimes overwhelm me. It creates the illusion of actually doing something about a situation over which I have no control. And it's easy to gloss over the uncomfortable truth that those feelings are more toxic to myself than to those toward whom I direct them.
The rationale for sending out thoughts of goodwill--quite aside from sparing myself the toxicity they generate within--is relatively simple: in the words I have heard on many occasion from Thanissaro Bhikkhu, whose teachings I enormously admire and seek to manifest in my life, "the world would be a better place if everyone were to find true happiness."
In light of this, I ask myself (to take the prime and most obvious example) whether the man who currently occupies our White House could be "truly happy"? He seems to enjoy wielding the power that has been given him, and grasping for more of it every day. He commands more wealth and material possessions than I could possibly imagine. He basks in the adulation of those many who worship him without criticism or question, and the obedience of the minions with whom he surrounds himself, and who obey the least of his commands.
If happiness consists in everything he has, then he would surely be a happy man, and it is perhaps presumptuous on my part to project my own sense of happiness upon him. But my definition of the word would exclude the kind of success that he apparently enjoys. My definition would have to do with freedom--freedom from wants, from attachment, from delusion. Freedom from the contingencies and demands of ego. Freedom from stress and tension, from fear and animosity. Freedom, if it were possible, from the kind of suffering we humans experience so greatly in our daily lives. I could also not be "happy" if I were the cause of suffering or harm to any of my fellow beings.
So if I send thoughts of goodwill out to those that I dislike (and I don't have to like them! I don't have to respect them or admire them!), if I wish for their happiness, it is with this idea of happiness in mind. We would all be better off if the man who occupies our White House were to be free from wants, attachment, delusion; if he were to be free from stress and tension, from fear and animosity. How much better would we all be off were he free from the contingencies and demands of a fragile and demanding ego.
What I see is a man who is suffering from the overweening and eternally exhausting demands of his own narcissism, a man who lacks a strong center of integrity and authenticity, a man incapable of empathy or compassion, a man trapped in the world of his own delusions. If I send him thoughts of goodwill it is not merely for his personal benefit, but to free us all from the tyranny of suffering he imposes on himself and projects upon the world.
The rationale for sending out thoughts of goodwill--quite aside from sparing myself the toxicity they generate within--is relatively simple: in the words I have heard on many occasion from Thanissaro Bhikkhu, whose teachings I enormously admire and seek to manifest in my life, "the world would be a better place if everyone were to find true happiness."
In light of this, I ask myself (to take the prime and most obvious example) whether the man who currently occupies our White House could be "truly happy"? He seems to enjoy wielding the power that has been given him, and grasping for more of it every day. He commands more wealth and material possessions than I could possibly imagine. He basks in the adulation of those many who worship him without criticism or question, and the obedience of the minions with whom he surrounds himself, and who obey the least of his commands.
If happiness consists in everything he has, then he would surely be a happy man, and it is perhaps presumptuous on my part to project my own sense of happiness upon him. But my definition of the word would exclude the kind of success that he apparently enjoys. My definition would have to do with freedom--freedom from wants, from attachment, from delusion. Freedom from the contingencies and demands of ego. Freedom from stress and tension, from fear and animosity. Freedom, if it were possible, from the kind of suffering we humans experience so greatly in our daily lives. I could also not be "happy" if I were the cause of suffering or harm to any of my fellow beings.
So if I send thoughts of goodwill out to those that I dislike (and I don't have to like them! I don't have to respect them or admire them!), if I wish for their happiness, it is with this idea of happiness in mind. We would all be better off if the man who occupies our White House were to be free from wants, attachment, delusion; if he were to be free from stress and tension, from fear and animosity. How much better would we all be off were he free from the contingencies and demands of a fragile and demanding ego.
What I see is a man who is suffering from the overweening and eternally exhausting demands of his own narcissism, a man who lacks a strong center of integrity and authenticity, a man incapable of empathy or compassion, a man trapped in the world of his own delusions. If I send him thoughts of goodwill it is not merely for his personal benefit, but to free us all from the tyranny of suffering he imposes on himself and projects upon the world.
April 6, 2020
IT'S A GOOD DAY...
... to stay home in Hollywood, CA. As we must do anyway, to avoid further spread of the coronavirus.
We are enjoying a very solid late season rain. It has been raining all night, and is still raining this morning. I used an umbrella to take Jake out for his his morning walk. It sheltered me, but poor Jake was up to his knees in the water cascading down from higher up the hill.
I have been living in this same location at the east end of the Hollywood Hills here since 1969, and I can't recall a rain like this in April. Still, as always in Southern California, the rain is welcome--except when it's fierce enough to cause those sometimes dreadful mudslides. After years of less than average precipitation, and sometimes barely any at all, it helps to make a dent in the persistent drought...
We are enjoying a very solid late season rain. It has been raining all night, and is still raining this morning. I used an umbrella to take Jake out for his his morning walk. It sheltered me, but poor Jake was up to his knees in the water cascading down from higher up the hill.
I have been living in this same location at the east end of the Hollywood Hills here since 1969, and I can't recall a rain like this in April. Still, as always in Southern California, the rain is welcome--except when it's fierce enough to cause those sometimes dreadful mudslides. After years of less than average precipitation, and sometimes barely any at all, it helps to make a dent in the persistent drought...
April 3, 2020
ALL SHALL BE WELL
Something I happened to notice on my early morning walk with Jake, the dog. The birds keep singing, joyously. The grass still grows. The flowers still bloom, and die, and shed their blooms. The clouds still skitter across the sky. The dog still poops...
And my thoughts turned to perhaps my favorite of all quotations, from Dame Julian of Norwich, the English religious recluse of the Middle Ages who lived through the devastating plague that ravaged Europe for two years from 1348-50.
She wrote these words (this Julian was a she): "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." I have never been able to analyze quite why these simple words can bring such comfort. But they do.
So there it is: All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
And my thoughts turned to perhaps my favorite of all quotations, from Dame Julian of Norwich, the English religious recluse of the Middle Ages who lived through the devastating plague that ravaged Europe for two years from 1348-50.
She wrote these words (this Julian was a she): "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." I have never been able to analyze quite why these simple words can bring such comfort. But they do.
So there it is: All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
April 2, 2020
RELEASING TENSIONS
Our homegrown meditation group gathered on Zoom last night for a virtual sit. Last week our first experiment revealed a couple of technical deficiencies, which we were able to overcome this week, and our session was a distinct improvement from that point of view. It bodes well for future sits.
I chose to use the opportunity to work on the release of tensions. Having myself observed their presence in various parts of the body, I walked participants through those places where we tend to allow tensions to gather: breathing into the back of the neck and the shoulders; less obviously--for me at least--the wrists, hands and fingers; the face, starting with the lower jaw, then the cheeks, the area around the eyes, the temples and the forehead. The scalp. Then on down the back to the base of the spine. And so on.
After working to release the tensions by directing the breath to areas of stress, it's good to recall that these are generated by our emotional reactions--particularly by fear, anger, sadness, grief, all of which have been accentuated by the predicament of this current global coronavirus pandemic. So I invited the group to identify those emotions, where they arose, and to first acknowledge, then gently, insofar as possible, to release them. And finally, behind them, we brought our attention to the source of those emotions; what triggers them, what aggravates them, what causes us to cling to them?
It is all quite slow, quite difficult and demanding work, but work that I personally have found rewarding. If I can manage to observe those troubling emotions and the tensions that they cause without attachment, but with clarity and equanimity, they lose some of their potency, some of their unhelpful claim on my attention and their painful physical effects. i hope--and believe--it was helpful to my friends. For myself, I know that I'll return to this practice frequently as the anxiety continues to grow...
I chose to use the opportunity to work on the release of tensions. Having myself observed their presence in various parts of the body, I walked participants through those places where we tend to allow tensions to gather: breathing into the back of the neck and the shoulders; less obviously--for me at least--the wrists, hands and fingers; the face, starting with the lower jaw, then the cheeks, the area around the eyes, the temples and the forehead. The scalp. Then on down the back to the base of the spine. And so on.
After working to release the tensions by directing the breath to areas of stress, it's good to recall that these are generated by our emotional reactions--particularly by fear, anger, sadness, grief, all of which have been accentuated by the predicament of this current global coronavirus pandemic. So I invited the group to identify those emotions, where they arose, and to first acknowledge, then gently, insofar as possible, to release them. And finally, behind them, we brought our attention to the source of those emotions; what triggers them, what aggravates them, what causes us to cling to them?
It is all quite slow, quite difficult and demanding work, but work that I personally have found rewarding. If I can manage to observe those troubling emotions and the tensions that they cause without attachment, but with clarity and equanimity, they lose some of their potency, some of their unhelpful claim on my attention and their painful physical effects. i hope--and believe--it was helpful to my friends. For myself, I know that I'll return to this practice frequently as the anxiety continues to grow...
March 31, 2020
OUR NEW LIFE
Our daughter Sarah is having a hard time toggling between full-time stay-at-home single motherhood and a full-time stay-at-home job. No easy feat. We offered to help as best we could--it seems unwise to have our 8-year-old grandson over at our house in the present circumstances--and Sarah suggested working with him online to relieve her for an hour or so. So of course I volunteered as a part-time Creative Writing teacher.
Luka and I had our first session yesterday. I had all kinds of plans about how I could "teach" him story-writing, but--silly me!--they all went out the window from the moment we got together on Zoom. Luka took off and launched into a terrific story about a young dragon and his pet tiger who lived on a tiny dragon island off the coast of Hawaii and had to defend it from a band of hunters that arrived to invade and kill the dragons. There were ice-dragons as well as fire-dragons, and the ice-dragons were the first line of defense, freezing the water around the island. But the hunters were able to break the ice with their swords and melt it, so the fire-dragons had to follow up and incinerate the enemy with their breath. The End.
I was astonished by Luka's ability not only to dream up the story but write it down in four pages of very cogent prose. No "teaching", then, on my part. We worked for an hour, and all I had to do was sit by and watch. And be royally entertained.
*******
This morning, a different experience entirely. Ellie and I decided on a shopping expedition. Friends and neighbors have been very kind and helpful, but it gets to a point where you have to venture out yourself to find precisely those things you usually have on hand in the kitchen and always forget to put on a shopping list.
It went like this: our local Gelson's has a senior shopping hour from 7 to 8 each morning, so we were up early, leaving a bewildered Jake to guard the house while we were gone. Left home at 6:45. Easy parking--for a change! We climbed out, suited up with latex gloves and face mask, and joined an already-forming line of similarly protected older folk outside the market, spaced at the regulation distance of 6 feet. Eerie silence.
Eeerie silence in the market, too, as we all went about our business and tried to avoid near misses as we pushed our carts around the aisles. I was relieved to find the wine shelves well stacked; the last time I was in, a week before, the lower, inexpensive shelves were totally depleted. Fine if you want to spend $20 a bottle. I don't. The produce department proved to be well stocked, too, as did, this time, the canned goods and packaged products. Paper goods shelves were sparse. And hand-sanitizer and disinfectant wipes, of course, unavailable.
Ellie and I each had our separate assignments, and met up at the check-out counter with two fully-laden carts. Paid an outrageously expensive bill with a credit card. Stopped by the ATM to replenish our dwindling supply of cash. And drove home again. We'll not need to be out and about again for quite a while.
Luka and I had our first session yesterday. I had all kinds of plans about how I could "teach" him story-writing, but--silly me!--they all went out the window from the moment we got together on Zoom. Luka took off and launched into a terrific story about a young dragon and his pet tiger who lived on a tiny dragon island off the coast of Hawaii and had to defend it from a band of hunters that arrived to invade and kill the dragons. There were ice-dragons as well as fire-dragons, and the ice-dragons were the first line of defense, freezing the water around the island. But the hunters were able to break the ice with their swords and melt it, so the fire-dragons had to follow up and incinerate the enemy with their breath. The End.
I was astonished by Luka's ability not only to dream up the story but write it down in four pages of very cogent prose. No "teaching", then, on my part. We worked for an hour, and all I had to do was sit by and watch. And be royally entertained.
*******
This morning, a different experience entirely. Ellie and I decided on a shopping expedition. Friends and neighbors have been very kind and helpful, but it gets to a point where you have to venture out yourself to find precisely those things you usually have on hand in the kitchen and always forget to put on a shopping list.
It went like this: our local Gelson's has a senior shopping hour from 7 to 8 each morning, so we were up early, leaving a bewildered Jake to guard the house while we were gone. Left home at 6:45. Easy parking--for a change! We climbed out, suited up with latex gloves and face mask, and joined an already-forming line of similarly protected older folk outside the market, spaced at the regulation distance of 6 feet. Eerie silence.
Eeerie silence in the market, too, as we all went about our business and tried to avoid near misses as we pushed our carts around the aisles. I was relieved to find the wine shelves well stacked; the last time I was in, a week before, the lower, inexpensive shelves were totally depleted. Fine if you want to spend $20 a bottle. I don't. The produce department proved to be well stocked, too, as did, this time, the canned goods and packaged products. Paper goods shelves were sparse. And hand-sanitizer and disinfectant wipes, of course, unavailable.
Ellie and I each had our separate assignments, and met up at the check-out counter with two fully-laden carts. Paid an outrageously expensive bill with a credit card. Stopped by the ATM to replenish our dwindling supply of cash. And drove home again. We'll not need to be out and about again for quite a while.
March 30, 2020
FATIGUE
I was sunk all day yesterday in a feeling of fatigue so overwhelming that I could scarcely bring myself to get up from the couch. I barely glanced at the Sunday newspapers--we get two of them at the weekend--and the only relief I found was in working on leftover crosswords from the Friday and Saturday issues. Crosswords, for me, an inveterate word lover, are the ultimate distraction.
We do keep up with a semblance of our exercise practice in this weird circumstance in which we find ourselves. In normal times, I make my regular visits to the gym and follow a workout routine with my friend and mentor, Charles. Now, with gyms closed, we have dug out some old weights from the back of a closet where they lay neglected over many years and brought them back into service for at least a relatively light workout. And we take walks pretty much every day, a mile or two, in the hilly area around our home.
So it's not that I have been a total couch potato, but there is still no physical reason for this debilitating fatigue. It's not like I have been doing anything to make me tired. I suspect, then, that I have been burying a good deal of fear these past couple of weeks, both for my family and myself, and a good deal of grief for the loss of many of those daily rituals that underpin the structure of my life.
It's perhaps my rejection of those feelings, my stubborn refusal to allow them to color my response to the pandemic that is at the root of the fatigue I have been observing, and that overwhelmed me yesterday. I was listening with half an ear--well, one ear--to a television broadcast in which the interviewee was at pains to remind the audience that the suppression of emotional responses can produce unwelcome physical effects.
It's not that I'm unaware of this phenomenon--but apparently I still need to be reminded once in a while. It seems I should spend more time in awareness, less time burying the inner life as I escape into the distraction of the crossword! That inner life goes on without me, even if I choose to pay it no attention.
We do keep up with a semblance of our exercise practice in this weird circumstance in which we find ourselves. In normal times, I make my regular visits to the gym and follow a workout routine with my friend and mentor, Charles. Now, with gyms closed, we have dug out some old weights from the back of a closet where they lay neglected over many years and brought them back into service for at least a relatively light workout. And we take walks pretty much every day, a mile or two, in the hilly area around our home.
So it's not that I have been a total couch potato, but there is still no physical reason for this debilitating fatigue. It's not like I have been doing anything to make me tired. I suspect, then, that I have been burying a good deal of fear these past couple of weeks, both for my family and myself, and a good deal of grief for the loss of many of those daily rituals that underpin the structure of my life.
It's perhaps my rejection of those feelings, my stubborn refusal to allow them to color my response to the pandemic that is at the root of the fatigue I have been observing, and that overwhelmed me yesterday. I was listening with half an ear--well, one ear--to a television broadcast in which the interviewee was at pains to remind the audience that the suppression of emotional responses can produce unwelcome physical effects.
It's not that I'm unaware of this phenomenon--but apparently I still need to be reminded once in a while. It seems I should spend more time in awareness, less time burying the inner life as I escape into the distraction of the crossword! That inner life goes on without me, even if I choose to pay it no attention.
March 26, 2020
ZOOM
I'm sure I have mentioned--forgive me if I repeat myself!--that I started a neighborhood sitting group here on the Franklin Hill (east end of Hollywood) a while ago. In fact, about four years ago. Tempus fugit! We are not allowed, of course, to gather as a group these days, but I suggested a virtual session last week at an agreed time, when we all would sit without direct communication, but with the knowledge that others were sitting, too.
So someone suggested a Zoom session, and one of our members kindly agreed to make it simple for me by acting as the host. I put out word, and we agreed on a first experiment yesterday evening.
We did pretty well. Some of us are less tech-adept than others, so we fumbled around a bit at first to get everyone checked in on video or audio. But we ended up with everyone checked in and online, and I was able to start with the bell and my usual guidance (we had two participants who were new to meditation, so this was especially important yesterday).
I found it a bit disorienting, not knowing for sure that everyone was able to hear me. I had to proceed with more trust in the process than I usually need, venturing on into the silence with no assurance that I was not, in fact, alone. I was fairly soon accustomed to the uncertainty, though, and was able to set that worry aside and focus on the task at hand.
I followed my usual pattern, leading the way with my voice for 20 minutes or so before inviting individual work in silence for another 20. To end, I suggest returning to the thoughts of goodwill with which we always start, and sending those thoughts out to other living beings. I only found out after the end bell--which I soon discovered nobody else heard--that my computer had run out of juice at just this moment, and everyone was left to end their sit in bewildered silence.
We managed to recover from this glitch, however, and reassembled in those small video squares on our computer monitors for a catch-up discussion about how we are all coping with this new reality we're living in. Various participants chose to check out at various times, and we ended up with just a handful of diehards.
All in all, I think the experiment was a great success, and I have had some reinforcing feedback. I must remember, obviously, to be plugged in to a power source next time, but we all agreed that we would be able to refine the process and do even better in the future. I'm looking forward to it!
So someone suggested a Zoom session, and one of our members kindly agreed to make it simple for me by acting as the host. I put out word, and we agreed on a first experiment yesterday evening.
We did pretty well. Some of us are less tech-adept than others, so we fumbled around a bit at first to get everyone checked in on video or audio. But we ended up with everyone checked in and online, and I was able to start with the bell and my usual guidance (we had two participants who were new to meditation, so this was especially important yesterday).
I found it a bit disorienting, not knowing for sure that everyone was able to hear me. I had to proceed with more trust in the process than I usually need, venturing on into the silence with no assurance that I was not, in fact, alone. I was fairly soon accustomed to the uncertainty, though, and was able to set that worry aside and focus on the task at hand.
I followed my usual pattern, leading the way with my voice for 20 minutes or so before inviting individual work in silence for another 20. To end, I suggest returning to the thoughts of goodwill with which we always start, and sending those thoughts out to other living beings. I only found out after the end bell--which I soon discovered nobody else heard--that my computer had run out of juice at just this moment, and everyone was left to end their sit in bewildered silence.
We managed to recover from this glitch, however, and reassembled in those small video squares on our computer monitors for a catch-up discussion about how we are all coping with this new reality we're living in. Various participants chose to check out at various times, and we ended up with just a handful of diehards.
All in all, I think the experiment was a great success, and I have had some reinforcing feedback. I must remember, obviously, to be plugged in to a power source next time, but we all agreed that we would be able to refine the process and do even better in the future. I'm looking forward to it!
March 25, 2020
KING CANUTE
Dear President Tr*mp (I still can't bring myself to spell out your name in full),
Reading the news today I recalled the story of Canute the Great, King of England (1016-1035) as well as of Denmark and Norway. In the version I heard in my childhood days, that king's apparently apocryphal attempt to command the tide to turn was a parable of the overweening vanity of kings and the delusion of divinely-ordained omnipotence. He got his feet wet. The more recent--and more enlightened--version of the story holds that Canute performed this futile act before his assembled lords and courtiers in order to demonstrate exactly the opposite: that the power of kings is limited, and that the only omnipotence belongs to God.
I thought of this story in the context of your reported delusion--which could turn into a presidential edict--for the nation to return to "normal" and everyone go back to work starting Easter Day. The notion that the power of your intention alone would suffice to turn back the tide of the coronavirus is as arrogant a conceit as the one illustrated by the King Canute story as it was told to me in childhood: hubris will inevitably lead to tragedy. But in truth the power of reality, God, Nature--call it what you will--makes a mockery of the power you imagine that you wield.
I invite you, without great hope, to embrace the humility of the more enlightened version. Otherwise, it's more than your own two feet that will get wet. We'll all be deluged by the tidal wave. And many of us will drown.
Yrs. truly, Peter Clothier
Reading the news today I recalled the story of Canute the Great, King of England (1016-1035) as well as of Denmark and Norway. In the version I heard in my childhood days, that king's apparently apocryphal attempt to command the tide to turn was a parable of the overweening vanity of kings and the delusion of divinely-ordained omnipotence. He got his feet wet. The more recent--and more enlightened--version of the story holds that Canute performed this futile act before his assembled lords and courtiers in order to demonstrate exactly the opposite: that the power of kings is limited, and that the only omnipotence belongs to God.
I thought of this story in the context of your reported delusion--which could turn into a presidential edict--for the nation to return to "normal" and everyone go back to work starting Easter Day. The notion that the power of your intention alone would suffice to turn back the tide of the coronavirus is as arrogant a conceit as the one illustrated by the King Canute story as it was told to me in childhood: hubris will inevitably lead to tragedy. But in truth the power of reality, God, Nature--call it what you will--makes a mockery of the power you imagine that you wield.
I invite you, without great hope, to embrace the humility of the more enlightened version. Otherwise, it's more than your own two feet that will get wet. We'll all be deluged by the tidal wave. And many of us will drown.
Yrs. truly, Peter Clothier
March 24, 2020
KARMA
It's a word that is much bandied about these days and used loosely to invoke something akin to fate or providence. In my admittedly limited understanding of the Buddhist dharma, its meaning is more about responsibility than about inevitability. It insists on a necessary connection between action and consequence: actions that are well-thought, generous, compassionate, skillful turn out to have beneficial consequences; those that are ill-thought, impulsive, inconsiderate, unskillful lead to consequences that spread chaos and ill-will.
We see the results of karma everywhere today--and the result is always commensurate and appropriate to the action. Thus, the paradoxical consequence of isolationism is to have isolated virtually all Americans from their neighbors. The president's obsession with personal wealth has led to impoverishment, to the loss of trillions in the national wealth, the depletion of savings, investments and financial security, and the erosion of jobs and income for countless working people. His ruthless cuts in administrative personnel and his appointment of cronies who lack experience, training, or appropriate skills have brought about a situation where the bureaucracy is ill-equipped to deal efficiently with a crisis such as the one in which we find ourselves.
And so on. To reduce it all to a somewhat crude joke I read recently somewhere on the Internet: we have never had a president so full of shit that an entire nation runs out of toilet paper. That's karma for you in a nutshell. If you'll forgive the mix of metaphors.
There is, too, a national karma at work, so I believe. Today's catastrophe is the direct, predictable result of our common action, as a nation, in electing as our leader a petty, vengeful and petulant man whose ignorance, incompetence, avarice and narcissism were clear to every thoughtful person before he was elected, that has led directly to where we stand today. Without competent leadership, the whole nation founders.
But karma is not "fated." It can be changed with good intentions. It's time for us all, and our government, (our human species!) to commit to actions that are generous, well-thought, far-seeing, compassionate, and above all skillful. Only then will we be able to change our karma--and survive.
We see the results of karma everywhere today--and the result is always commensurate and appropriate to the action. Thus, the paradoxical consequence of isolationism is to have isolated virtually all Americans from their neighbors. The president's obsession with personal wealth has led to impoverishment, to the loss of trillions in the national wealth, the depletion of savings, investments and financial security, and the erosion of jobs and income for countless working people. His ruthless cuts in administrative personnel and his appointment of cronies who lack experience, training, or appropriate skills have brought about a situation where the bureaucracy is ill-equipped to deal efficiently with a crisis such as the one in which we find ourselves.
And so on. To reduce it all to a somewhat crude joke I read recently somewhere on the Internet: we have never had a president so full of shit that an entire nation runs out of toilet paper. That's karma for you in a nutshell. If you'll forgive the mix of metaphors.
There is, too, a national karma at work, so I believe. Today's catastrophe is the direct, predictable result of our common action, as a nation, in electing as our leader a petty, vengeful and petulant man whose ignorance, incompetence, avarice and narcissism were clear to every thoughtful person before he was elected, that has led directly to where we stand today. Without competent leadership, the whole nation founders.
But karma is not "fated." It can be changed with good intentions. It's time for us all, and our government, (our human species!) to commit to actions that are generous, well-thought, far-seeing, compassionate, and above all skillful. Only then will we be able to change our karma--and survive.
March 23, 2020
ONLY CONNECT
I find myself craving connection more and more these days, when physical proximity, let alone physical contact, is not allowed. Just yesterday, for example, Ellie and I joined our Laguna Beach sangha, our meditation group, in a Zoom session that allowed us all to share the thoughts and feelings that have been troubling us--or inspiring us!--in recent days. These are people with whom I have been sitting in meditation Sunday mornings for years. Our longest-running members have been meeting for 25 years, and have a close bond of common experience and shared devotion to the Buddhist dharma. There is a wealth of mutual respect, and trust, and love. It was a joy to be able to mine that mother lode of compassionate community.
The arrival of our daughter, Sarah, and our grandson Luka, now 8 years old, was a welcome interruption to our Zoom session. They brought groceries from Whole Foods and left them by the front door, standing back for a while to talk. It happened to be Jake, our King Charles spaniel's birthday--he is now 4 years old--so we all sang Happy Birthday, much to his bewilderment...
... and agreed to take him out for a family walk, observing social distance. We strolled along a ways and found one of the long flights of steps that form a decades-old network in this hilly neighborhood. Leading down from the street where we first lived on this hill, some 50 years ago, it took us down to a street far below where one of Luka's good friends from second grade happens to live, so we shouted outside the house to attract attention, then stood around--at a suitable distance--for quite some time, exchanging news and pleasantries. Another warm connection.
It was sad to see Sarah and Luka leave--with a wave substituting for the usual hug--but it had been a joy to see them and spend time with them. After lunch at home, just as I was settling down for a much needed nap, the phone rang. It was my former wife and the mother of our two sons, Elizabeth, returning a call I had placed to her earlier in the day. She lives in Iowa and is, of course, much of an age with me, so I was naturally concerned to know that she was holding up in our unwelcome circumstances. She is fortunate to have my younger son, Jason, living nearby, and he is a great help and comfort to her. It was a while since we had last talked, so we had a wonderful catch-up chat. Though we parted more than 50 years ago, there is still much we share in common--not least our children and our English heritage.
I had spoken just the day before to an old friend in Chicago, a man now entering his nineties who came to England shortly before the start of World War II and spent those years in the Rectory where we lived. My father was instrumental in inspiring his lifelong devotion to the Anglican faith. Born a Jew, he is a widower now, and is amused to be living in a retirement home surrounded by old Jews! He sorely misses his wife, and nurses a not so secret wish to not survive, himself, for too much longer. We had not spoken for a very long time, and he was surprised and delighted by my call.
So I woke this morning early thinking this is the great antidote to the isolation to which we have been each of us consigned: connection. And vowed to pursue it to the best of my ability in the coming weeks, and possibly the coming months. It is the essential ingredient for a successful passage through these perilous and disturbing times.
The arrival of our daughter, Sarah, and our grandson Luka, now 8 years old, was a welcome interruption to our Zoom session. They brought groceries from Whole Foods and left them by the front door, standing back for a while to talk. It happened to be Jake, our King Charles spaniel's birthday--he is now 4 years old--so we all sang Happy Birthday, much to his bewilderment...
... and agreed to take him out for a family walk, observing social distance. We strolled along a ways and found one of the long flights of steps that form a decades-old network in this hilly neighborhood. Leading down from the street where we first lived on this hill, some 50 years ago, it took us down to a street far below where one of Luka's good friends from second grade happens to live, so we shouted outside the house to attract attention, then stood around--at a suitable distance--for quite some time, exchanging news and pleasantries. Another warm connection.
It was sad to see Sarah and Luka leave--with a wave substituting for the usual hug--but it had been a joy to see them and spend time with them. After lunch at home, just as I was settling down for a much needed nap, the phone rang. It was my former wife and the mother of our two sons, Elizabeth, returning a call I had placed to her earlier in the day. She lives in Iowa and is, of course, much of an age with me, so I was naturally concerned to know that she was holding up in our unwelcome circumstances. She is fortunate to have my younger son, Jason, living nearby, and he is a great help and comfort to her. It was a while since we had last talked, so we had a wonderful catch-up chat. Though we parted more than 50 years ago, there is still much we share in common--not least our children and our English heritage.
I had spoken just the day before to an old friend in Chicago, a man now entering his nineties who came to England shortly before the start of World War II and spent those years in the Rectory where we lived. My father was instrumental in inspiring his lifelong devotion to the Anglican faith. Born a Jew, he is a widower now, and is amused to be living in a retirement home surrounded by old Jews! He sorely misses his wife, and nurses a not so secret wish to not survive, himself, for too much longer. We had not spoken for a very long time, and he was surprised and delighted by my call.
So I woke this morning early thinking this is the great antidote to the isolation to which we have been each of us consigned: connection. And vowed to pursue it to the best of my ability in the coming weeks, and possibly the coming months. It is the essential ingredient for a successful passage through these perilous and disturbing times.
