March 30, 2003
it’s a mistake
Yesterday morning at work someone was playing Men At Work’s It’s A Mistake. At 6:15 with the sun not peaking over the mountains and a stillness in the air, the men from “down under” put a funky rhythm and perfect prose to my feelings:
After the laughter has died away
And all the boys have had their fun
No surface noise now, not much to say
They’ve got the bad guys on the run
Don’t try to say you’re sorry
Don’t say he drew his gun
They’ve gone and grabbed old Ronnie
He’s not the only one saying
It’s a mistake, it’s a mistake
It’s a mistake, it’s a mistake
I’m not sure what the original song was specifically about (maybe just war in general), but it seems extremely appropriate right now.
Later that day a comment was made about how the prisoners of war in Iraq have likely been killed. “They are such animals,” in the mind of the commentator. I don’t necessarily disagree that those actions were wrong, but I don’t think anyone needed to die at all. You won’t see a banner on my site, but I will probably be checking in to the Iraq Body Count website every so often to keep tabs on just how much of a mistake we are making.
posted @ 10:47 PM
March 27, 2003
new project
Because I always need something to do... I’ve started a new project. It is to create the first online English to Tibetan Dictionary. Plenty of Tibetan to English dictionaries exist, but not a single one the other way around.
posted @ 10:33 PM
in a world gone mad
George Bush you’re looking like Zoolander
Trying to play tough for the camera
What am I on crazy pills? We’ve got to stop it
Get your hand out my grandma’s pocket
We need health care more than going to war
You think it’s democracy they’re fighting for?
--Beastie Boys released a new song.
posted @ 8:01 AM
March 24, 2003
staples
We needed some baggies to put the sand from the mandala in, so that it could be distributed to the audience after the closing ceremony. On the way out the door I mentioned that a grocery store would probably have them. Dharma suggested that we try Staples. Office Max was on the way so we stopped in there to see if they had anything. No luck. Onward to Staples to see if it was indeed true that, “yeah, they’ve got that.” After a little search we headed to the back of the store and came upon an older gentleman who was cleaning the floor. He glanced up and turned off his machine (one of the big floor cleaner deals). I asked if he had any little plastic bags. He walked us to where they would be. No luck. How about envelopes? He walked us there. Still no luck, but he suggested that maybe a grocery store would be the best location. Off we went.
On the ride to the grocery store Dharma told me that the gentleman who helped us had a loving heart. He couldn’t think of the right word in English — we tried “friendly”, “compassionate”, “helpful” — none of which described exactly what he felt (or knew) about this man. We made a special trip to see this man, I can’t say 100% that this is true, but I really think it probably is.
posted @ 9:39 AM
March 19, 2003
anger
Typical conversation last week (while the monks where here):
“I’d like you to have this [insert gift here].”
“No, I can’t accept that.”
“Really, please... I want you to have it.”
“No, I don’t need it. It’s okay.”
“You should take it.”
“Okay, I’ll take it. Thank you.”
Typical conversation this week (while on the phone with customer’s at work):
“I need to have this NOW!”
“I’m sorry, I’m not able to get this to you any faster than it’s already going.”
“Who is your boss, so I can write a letter to complain?”
“I can provide you with that information, but I’m really trying to do everything in my power to resolve this for you.”
“Don’t get smart with me you little f-cking a--hole. You haven’t done sh-t for me.”
It’s only been three days back on the job and I feel like it’s been a week. The mental abuse that our customers provide me with in a typical day is more than most people deal with in a lifetime. I really didn’t notice it all that much until I took a week off and had the opposite happen to me for five days. People were very nice and said sweet, loving things and never once did anyone call me a name.
I know it’s my karma and it’s a great way to build patients, but I don’t know if it’s long term effects will be good. Sometimes (okay, often times) I snap and say things back to people. Right about the time I’m willing to help them, they something really personal and I lose it. I retaliate. The worst possible karma. It’s not altruistic retaliation at all. It’s straight-up, I can be a bigger smart ass than you, attitude. I know it’s completely wrong, but sometimes (okay, often times) I do it anyway. I’m really thinking that I should apply for this bakery position I’ve seen in the paper the last few days...
posted @ 7:50 PM
they have an accent
“Someone with an accent called wanting to know how to send a broadcast
fax.” Confused look by me. “He told his boss, but his boss didn’t care so
he called the FBI.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“He wanted to send a FAX out to lot’s of different people.”
“So.”
“So, with all that’s going on, it should probably be investigated.”
“What does that mean, ‘with all that’s going on?’”
“Well, with the war and everything.”
“How do know they were going to do something evil just because they have an
accent? What if the agent was just being a prejudice a--hole? I don’t by
all that.”
“Well, I think it should be documented.”
“Maybe.”
posted @ 3:16 PM
March 15, 2003
the dawn of kalispell
If I only learned one thing from Dharma and Sogyal it was that being around a teacher — a real, live, flesh and blood human — is about 50 times more effective than a video, 75 more times effective than audio tapes and 100 times more effective than reading a book. I’m not saying that I haven’t learned a vast amount from the online teachings of Geshe Michael, but having a learned master sitting next to you making you (because you asked) read the Tibetan script of Lam Tso Nam Sum and helping you with pronunciation and explaining certain meanings is like using a rocket as opposed to a sling shot to get to the moon.
Every time Dharma spoke it was a learning experience. Whether he was teasing my friend Dawn, “Oh my god. I afraid. Don, like the mafia?” Or if he was explaining to me that money wasn’t a real worry for him because he knew that he would get what he needed because of his karma.
posted @ 8:04 PM
no good teacher
Him: I would like to play the guitar.
Me: Not enough time?
Him: No good teacher.
posted @ 2:40 PM
March 14, 2003
no good pronunciation
After about ten minutes we figured out how to fit the sand mandala board into the back of the Blazer. This was our biggest concern, people and backpacks were no problem at all.
I wasn’t sure how the drive back was going to be — I knew that at least Lobsang and probably Dharma (Nguchul Rinpoche) spoke some English. All the rest I wasn’t sure about. I figured that it might be best to have Lobsang drive with Christina because she didn’t know any Tibetan at all and I could wing it with the little I knew with anyone else. Nope. Everyone with good, working English jumped in my car. The one monk, Dawa, who barely speaks any English sat next to Christina. She said it was silent in her car the whole way.
Things were quite different in my car. I had Dharma in the passenger seat, Ali Rinpoche, Lobsang and Palden in the back. As soon as we got on the freeway Dharma asked if he could play a tape. Lobsang said, “this is Tibetan tea — no, no, I mean Tibetan music!” and we all busted up laughing. It was a great ice breaker and the rest of the drive was very lively. I didn’t have a clue as to what they were talking about most of the drive — and they were talking most of the drive. Every so often Dharma would ask a question about Montana or the road conditions, but mostly it was a lively discussion with tons of teasing going on.
The Tibetan “tea” (music) was very modern, with a pretty good dance beat, whistles and is probably a favorite in the Indian clubs. During one song they said, in English, “let’s take it higher” or something like that and everyone (including me) laughed. It played about three times before we put on Kirby Shelstad’s Dewachen. Dharma informed me that he couldn’t really understand it — even though it was supposed to be Tibetan — the pronunciation was all off. I had been wondering about this myself and we both agreed that the music was nice but, “no good Tibetan.”
posted @ 5:53 PM
March 13, 2003
operation: monk rescue
Saturday afternoon I was pacing around the living room. Waiting for Raymond, the driver, to call. Nothing, nothing, nothing... finally, something. Something bad. The van’s alternator was shot. They weren’t going to make it today and their was a good chance that they wouldn’t make it until Monday afternoon.
Our freakish March snow storm had just rolled in and dumped eight inches of fresh snow on us. We only have one medium sized car and it couldn’t possibly fit seven people with all of their stuff. We’d have to think of something else. I called my dad, turns out that my sister was in a very close accident that blew out the front window of their car and dented up the front hood. She was fine, the car was not. The next option was Christina’s mom — her Blazer just might do the trick. Mom okayed the use and gave us a cell phone and walkie talkies (both key in saving our asses). We took off for Butte at 5:15 PM from her parent’s house on our way to Butte.
The roads were bare and dry all the way to Missoula. A little slushy on Evro Hill, but not too bad. Outside of Missoula it was snowing — horizontally. We were talking on the walkie talkie:
Her: Do you think it’s safe to drive back tonight?
Me: I think so, we are experience snow drivers. We’ll just take it nice and easy.
Her: Ok, roger that.
Mile marker 148. She swerved to the left, then back to the right, spun completely around — “don’t go in the ditch, don’t go in the ditch,” was all I could think. BAM!! In the ditch, backed in, facing the wrong way in two feet of snow. “Oh my god! Are you okay!” — oh, you have to push the button — “Are you okay, are you alright, oh my god, Christina, I love you, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” It was such a relief to hear her voice.
The tow truck pulled the Blazer out of the ditch and we were back on the road. We arrived at the Super 8 around 11:30 PM knowing we had to leave the following morning for Kalispell by no later than 8:30 AM.
posted @ 9:34 PM
the visit
The monk’s visit was absolutely incredible. I couldn’t have asked for a better time. I am completely exhausted, but I wouldn’t trade my tiredness for anything. I have so many great stories I want to share, but I just don’t have the energy for it right now. The monks left at six thirty this morning and we got up to make them breakfast — after being up until about eleven thirty last night. More soon.
posted @ 8:00 AM
March 7, 2003
childhood fears
It’s been really amazing getting this event to happen. People I didn’t expect would have any interest in it at all have come out of the woodwork and offered their services (and those whom I presumed would like to help, have not, but...). I mistakenly believed that many Christian people would not be very interested. I had this idea that they would scowl and wrinkle their nose and call me names or something. That only happened once (again, by someone I expected to be into it — someone who is going on a long trip to Europe in the summer).
My mother-in-law, who attends regular Bible study groups, told me the other night that she fixed some flyers that you couldn’t see real good at a local store, one of my coworkers who plays bells for a local church offered to help with food and said she really wanted to see the sand mandala, a friend who went to Catholic school and now works part-time at a bar has been telling everyone she sees about the event, put flyers up around town and will be helping with some of the dinners, and we’ve already talked about how the monks will be staying with and old acquaintance.
When I was pretty young their was this fairly new concept called “Superlearning” and my step-mom (who is a teacher) decided to try it out. It had all of the wrong things going for it to be taught in a small town school in the early ‘80s. Fresh out of the communist block, it encouraged students to listen to baroque music, do visualizations — all sorts of “devil-inspired” things. A few months later, after school board meetings and the modern day witch trial was over, Superlearning was put back on the shelf and nobody talked about it ever again. I carry with me this fear that I will be accused of some horrific act — some disgrace to mankind — by bringing the monks here. In this fear overzealous right wing Christians jump out of the bushes and yell, “PAGAN!”. It has been very nice knowing that it’s the regular subscribers to One Spirit who are more offended by the presence of seven men in maroon robes.
posted @ 3:00 PM
March 4, 2003
never happy
Almost immediately I thought to myself, “great!”, now all we need is the meditation modules. I am very excited that all of the written material and the audio is available in mp3 format for all fifteen ACI courses, but the mind can never be happy. Always wants more, more, more.
The good news is that DigitalDharma.org is providing some of that more, more, more that we all crave. The Tong Len videos are now complete.
posted @ 7:34 AM
March 3, 2003
the pacifist and the soldier
In less than a week I will be bringing seven Buddhist monks to our town to help spread the message of peace. In less than two weeks my good friend (and former Buzz Radio morning show co-host) will be shipping off to Iraq. He won’t be going against his will and after arguing with him for an hour last night, I’m not convinced I know why I was arguing at all. He has learned a great deal about the injustices happening to the people of Iraq, about the politics of it all and feels that someone should stop the violence there. Someone should stand up in this global bar fight and make the guy in the corner stop beating his girl. My only counterpoint to this argument was that I’m not convinced stopping the beating for one night will stop the cycle of violence.
At around 4:30 am, I remembered this Jataka tale (Buddha’s past life stories) where he’s on this boat that the captain plans on sinking. In order to save the other 30 passengers on board, the Buddha (as a Bodhisatva — a warrior saint) kills the captain. He was positive the captain would sink the boat and it was the only way to stop it.
My friend signed up to make the world a better place, not to be some gun totting neanderthal. He’s extremely intelligent and very compassionate. I guess this is the ongoing struggle every peace-loving person must have with themselves. When is it okay? When is enough, enough?
posted @ 9:36 AM
March 2, 2003
path of accumulation
It really is my belief that if punk rockers started listening to Buddhist teachings, they would become the ideal practitioners. The first path (according to Lam Rim) is renunciation — absolute disgust with this life. Geshe-la says in the Heart Sutra that any intelligent person has three choices; kill yourself because you see clearly that this life isn’t going to work out, be a “pleasure seeker” and go after material things (i.e. live the Budwieser lifestyle), or try and find a spiritual path. I know a couple people who killed themselves — some of them unintentionally while being pleasure seekers. Both ways don’t seem to make the person any happier, don’t seem to make living this life any easier.
I have this... we’ll say acquaintance, who I know from a few years ago when he was in a band and I was friends with one of the guys in the band. Our paths have crossed a few times since then, but mostly just in passing. A mutual friend of both our ours (who has been advertising the monks visit like crazy!) told him about the event and mentioned that we didn’t have a place secured for them to stay. He works with mentally disabled children and has a huge house — he offered for them to stay there. At first I was hesitant because these aren’t just any monks, these are rinpoches from the Panchen Lama’s monastery. They were invited here by me and I’m responsible if they see, hear or smell anything that wouldn’t be appropriate. Plus, I had this selfishness kick in (”they’re my monks”).
They were going to stay on our floor and we were going to stay in a camper out behind the house. The camper is now broken — no heat or power or water — and we heard from the mutual friend that our acquaintance was really excited about the whole thing and wasn’t going to take no for answer (he did take no, but only because he’s a nice, passive guy — much like myself).
This acquaintance, we’ll call him “Matt”, has been doing these amazing selfless acts for years now. Helping disabled children can’t be the easiest job around, yet he’s stuck with it. His karma is ripe and my fears are silly. This could turn out to be this symbiotic relationship allowing great teachers to have a place to stay while they teach. We’re going to look at the house today and will be making the decision. My guess is that my selfishness will prevail again (sleeping out in a cold camper or sleeping in my warm bed) and Matt will be providing shelter for the monks.
posted @ 9:13 AM
March 1, 2003
important guests
It’s cleaning time. Turns out the monks will be staying at our house, we’ll be staying in a camper behind our house. This is perfectly okay with me, but it does mean that everything must be as clean and orderly as possible. The next week is going to be very intense. Should be interesting to see what tricks time will play on us — too slow, too fast...
posted @ 9:39 AM