Every Day Is Special

Every day is special. Yesterday was nice, but there's no need to attach to yesterday's memories and miss today. When I got up this morning, I found the following comment posted to my January 3 blog entry:

Hi Shokai,

on your very interesting blog you wrote:

"In the particularly hard-hit Aceh Province of Indonesia, several statues of Buddha were reportedly unmoved by the flood waters. One news account quotes a Buddhist monk as saying: "The people are not living according to religious virtues. Nature has given them some punishment, because they are not following the path of the Lord Buddha. The people have to learn their lesson." In my opinion, such a view is a fundamental misinterpretation of the Buddha-dharma.[...]"

exactly!

BTW: As far I know it was in Sri Lanka

you have also wrote:

"While many Buddhist web sites express sympathy and compassion for the victims and survivors, and provide links to relief organizations, they don't seem to be offering a Buddhist interpretation of the events."

You are right - it's true and that's also why i was glad to see this article (cbs again):

"CBS News went to a Buddhist temple and asked why.
The monk there explained that under his religion, the answer is, "just because."
"This is how nature works, it is like a cycle," says Vidura, a Buddhist monk.
"From time to time these things happen. We never know where it happens."

There is Dukkha, there is Anicca, there is Anatta...

Greetings from Cologne to Atlanta:
Suiram

I'm in complete agreement. The world is simply thus, including occasional earthquakes and tsunamis. In this world of samsara, even following the path leading to the cessation of suffering does not nullify the First Noble Truth of the existence of suffering. So no matter how sincere the practice of the people may be, rain will still fall, people will still grow old and die, and the earth will still occasionally shake.

However, as pleasant as it was to receive that note this morning, I didn't have much time to linger, because it was my morning to do newcomers' instruction at the Zen Center. We had five visitors: one guy, a couple and a mother and son. I enjoy doing the newcomers' sessions since it gives me the chance to re-experience "beginner's mind." After the instruction was complete, I stayed around for a not-particularly-memorable dharma talk. After the talk, while everyone else was eating (we serve a brunch after the Sunday morning dharma talk), I sat zazen alone in the zendo for an hour. I completed my day at the zendo with a Board of Directors' meeting from 1 to 3.

On the way home, I stopped at the dive shop. Jerry, one of the divers on my November trip to Grand Cayman, was kind enough to make everyone else a CD of his pictures, and had left them at the shop. Not to be a narcissist, but here's the one I found the most interesting (that is, here's the one of me):

This evening, I went to Smith's Old Bar in Ansley Park to hear Rebecca Martin. Rebecca is a singer/songwriter, and the daughter of Terry Martin, who, among other things, is my father's girlfriend. So I guess that makes Rebecca kind of a friend of the family's.

I had never heard Rebecca's music, but I had read favorable reviews in the New York Times. According to Ben Ratliff (August 23, 2004), her last album, Middlehope, a collection of standards and songs by other composers, "suggested a strong musical personality with an intuitive undercurrent: Ms. Martin's mannerisms didn't seem indebted to any jazz singer in particular." Of her latest album, People Behave Like Ballads, he notes "the songs are all hers this time, and nearly every one carries a chilling mule-kick, originating either in Ms. Martin's lyrics, her singing or the arrangements of her modest band."

Maybe so. I haven't heard the album. But if jazz can be defined at all, the best definition of it I ever heard was "improvised music to a syncopated beat." If you can accept that definition, then what I heard at Smith's tonight has no relationship to jazz at all. Maybe it's called "jazz" because she wears a beret on her album cover.


Rebecca Martin was touring the south solo, using only her guitar for accompaniment. Mr. Ratliff noted that "a lot of these songs sound written around that instrument, suggested by the harmonies of sliding parallel chords; every once in a while there's a hint of Joni Mitchell, who has composed similarly." Yes, but Joni Mitchell's songs left open spaces for improvisation, and occasionally, her music swinged. Neither was on display at Smith's tonight. Ms. Martin's guitar playing stuck to the chords, and suggested what was once called "folk music" more than any other genre, and nearly everything was played in a monotonous mid-tempo. "Even when I try to write up-tempo songs," she joked at one point, "they come out mid-tempo."

"She doesn't write the same song over and over," Ratliff noted. Maybe not, but at Smith's tonight, all of the songs certainly sounded the same. This could be blamed on the limits of appearing solo, or the gruelling road schedule on which she's been (she had played in Athens, Georgia earlier in the day). She was obviously tired - she seemed to have lost her way or forgotten what she was playing at times during several songs, and couldn't seem to decide on the set list at other times. Only on one of the last songs, Thoroughfare, did her playing seem to come to life, and she even attempted a little bit of vocal improvisation with the title.

I went to the show with my friend Jeff. Jeff and I get together every so often, and compare notes on what we've done and where we've been. This time around, Jeff had me trumped: he had just come back from Italy (Rome, Florence and Venice) where, among other things, he proposed to his Russian girlfriend, Karina. Kind of beat any stories I've told here since last October.

But anyway, Jeff and I got to Smith's about an hour before the show and introduced ourselves to Ms. Martin. She was extremely gracious with her time, coming as it did just before her show, and we chatted about our family friends, life in Maine (her home state - she now lives in the Catskills), the environment and Buddhism before we let her excuse herself to go do her soundcheck.

Between the soundcheck and the show, Jeff and I did what any two guys would do in a bar with time to kill - we shot a game of pool.

Am-Scray!

Today was such a good day that I almost don't want to write about it. Did you ever have a day so perfect that you didn't want to discuss it with anyone else? At least anyone other than the one you shared it with? It's like a dessert so sweet that you don't want to let anyone else even taste it. Or a shower so warm and perfect that you don't even care if you're using up all of the hot water for everyone else.

This week has not been easy, but my one refuge all week had been looking forward to this day. And when it arrived, this 8,500-something-eth remaining day of my life, it was every bit as good as I had been expecting.

Here's a brief overview: I stopped over at L.'s apartment in the early afternoon. L., as readers of this blog should know, is not only the loveliest creature on this planet, but is also one of the smartest. And sexiest.

And, let me just add, she looks terrific in a thong.

We went out and saw the Scorsese film "The Aviator." A tad too long and in need of editing in some parts, but entertaining, and with a good cast. But the best part for me was to be sitting there in the theater with L., holding hands and sharing popcorn.

We changed after the movie (clothes that is, not identities) - L. into a very slinky short sleeveless dress that she made look absolutely gorgeous. I humbly put on a pair of dress slacks and a blazer, and we went to dinner at the Floataway Cafe. I had chicken, she had steak, and for dessert, chocolate pie and vanilla ice milk with espresso. Diners at another table sent two glasses of champagne over to us (we were flattered), but when we went over to thank them, they had already left (so at least they didn't have to see us return them - neither one of us drinks).

But that's all that I'm saying. It was a lovely day with a lovely woman, and I'm going to savor these memories and keep the rest of them to myself. So, off with you now - shoo! You can come back here tomorrow, when normal blogging will resume.

SexBlog 2005

Okay, now pay attention, because I'm only going to do this once . . .

OZARK, Ark. Jan 14, 2005 — A sheriff's deputy was fired after his wife posed nude next to his patrol car. A computer disc containing the photos of Damon Gregory's wife posing near the patrol vehicle surfaced at the Franklin County Sheriff's office in early December. Gregory was fired Dec. 14, and the reason was released Thursday. A supervisor who knew of the photographs was demoted from sergeant to road deputy. Gregory said he won't appeal his firing for violating department policy and conduct regulations.

SAN FRANCISCO Jan 14, 2005 — Management consultant William Fried told eighth-graders at Jane Lathrop Stanford Middle School on Tuesday that stripping and exotic dancing can pay $250,000 or more per year, depending on their bust size. Fried has given a popular 55-minute presentation, "The Secret of a Happy Life," at the school's career day the past three years. He counsels students to experiment with a variety of interests until they discover something they love and excel in.

Fried's comments to the class came after some of them asked him to expand on why he included "exotic dancing" on his list of 140 potential careers. Fried spent about a minute answering questions, defining strippers and exotic dancers synonymously. He told students: "For every 2 inches up there, you should get another $50,000 on your salary." Fried, 64, said he does not think he offended any of the students: "Eighth-grade kids are not dumb," he said. "They are pretty worldly."

The stripping advice wasn't the only thing that riled parents. One mother said she was outraged when her son announced that he was forgoing college for a field he loves: fishing.

Return to Karate

What was it that Yogi Berra once said? "Nobody goes there anymore - it's too crowded?" That's what gyms are like in January. After the feasts of the holiday season, the gyms of America all fill up with resolutionaries, who crowd the regulars out until about Valentine's Day, when they lose their enthusiasm and the gyms go back to normal.

So, having missed my karate classes for much of December due to travel and the holidays, I felt like one of those resolutionaries myself as I went in tonight for the first time this year. However, much to my surprise, the class was only at about 3/4 of the regular-size crowd - no herd of thunder-thighed newbies, no fugitive couch potatoes trying to get back in shape.

Except, of course, for me.

But all the instructors greeted me like I had just been there yesterday.

Meanwhile, though, it appears that the White House finally called off its search for WMDs last Christmas, according to the press. And guess what?

They didn't find any.

Something about massive intelligence failures, billions of dollars spent needlessly, tens of thousands of lives lost for no reason. Of course, even if the WMDs were found, the loss of lives would not have been justified. But nobody really seems to have the stomach to discuss it as the colossal blunder that it is.

However, the truly impressive thing is this blog is starting to finally get some hits! It seems that Wampum has nominated my MSNBC screenshot of December 12, 2004 for The Koufax Awards: Most Humorous Post. Okay, you have to scroll all the way down to the bottom of the page to find me there, but I'm on the list. Personally, I didn't find the screenshot all that amusing, but what the hell? 37 hits from that link alone. That's a lot of hits for this modest little blog stuck away in an obscure little corner of the internet.

Think I ought to tell them I found the screenshot over on usenet (no idea who uploaded it) and that it wasn't original? Or do I just pull a Jayson Blair?

Decision

How do we ever know if we've made the right decisions or not? The more we look at a situation, the more complicated, the messier, it appears. There are always so many variables, so many different possible outcomes.

So we look into our heart, but if we're honest with ourselves and look carefully, we still see the same uncertainty.

"Paralysis by analysis." But sooner or later we have to act, and then the cards are played and the chips fall where they may. It's tough, but I believe I did the right thing today.

Is it the action or our intention that determines our karma?

I'm sorry to have sounded so oblique the last few days, but those close to this situation will understand. I'm trying to say things the best that I can, and not hurt feelings or betray confidences. Any more than I've already had to.

Thank you, Zeiri. That helped.

Cerebus

Cerebus was the three-headed dog who guarded the entrance to Hell. The most famous of the underground dogs, dead souls had to placate Cerebus with gifts of honey and barley cake in order to gain entrance. Cerebus was charmed by Orpheus and his lyre into allowing entrance.

Today, the 8,539th remaining day of my life, I had some very hard decisions to make. My friend Arthur and I had dinner together (Korean barbeque) to discuss my options. Suzuki Roshi summed up all the teachings of Buddhism in three simple words: "Not always so."

8,540 and Counting . . .

Life is fragile, like the dew hanging delicately on the grass, crystal drops that will be carried away on the first morning breeze. - Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

Yesterday, the remarkable 8,541st day of my remaining life on earth, was not so bad. Intrigued, L. asked about the Death Clock, and I sent her this link.

Well, it turns out that although I am going to die May 5, 2028, she will live to be 100 and won't die until Saturday, July 5, 2064. She's going to outlive me by more than 25 years! Of course, her BMI is 19 (mine's 26). I offered to take her out before 2064 if she thought 100 was too old, but I wouldn't want to do it much before 2028, as I don't want to spend too much time in jail.

But that site is just a ploy for a vitamin company, and only considers gender, smoking and BMI in it's longevity calculations - more accurate actuarial calculations include things like wearing seat belts, marital status, religious beliefs, presence of disease, safe sex practices, etc.

The Death Timer also uses drinking and what country you live in, but only a "yes/no" algorithm for obesity rather than BMI, and it gives me November 20, 2028 for my day of death. Only six months more than Death Clock. . .

Day 4 Death gives me until September 4, 2039 (age of 84), and also predicts, with a 44% probability, that I will die under in-patient care and, with a 31% probability, from heart disease. It also provides celebrity deaths for the day of the year - I will die on the anniversary of the death of Hank the Angry Dwarf from Howard Stern's show.

The most comprehensive list of factors that I've found is on Bella Online. It includes a lot of lifestyle issues like stress, outlook on life, etc. It gives me until January 25, 2036, but two more years if I get a pet.

So all I really learned from all of this is 1. I am going to die, and 2. I can expect to live to be somewhere between 74 and 86 years old. All of which I already knew.

All this may be moot however. The Inca calendar ends in December 2028 - therefore, a lot of people think that's when the world will end. Not to much use planning beyond that date . . .

Remarkable Day

This was a rather remarkable day. First, it was the third day of sesshin, and at the morning service I gave my first dharma talk, or at least my first prime-time Sunday-morning, full-sangha dharma talk. I didn't know that I was going to be giving the talk when I walked into the zendo that morning, but the senior teacher asked me if I wouldn't mind saying a few things this morning, say, oh, between 10 and 11 o'clock? Sure, I replied, and a few hours later, was addressing the sangha.

But earlier, during the sitting period, L. came in. I was attending at the time, so I didn't have the chance to say "Hi" or otherwise acknowledge her presence. But she came in, sat down, and I thought that she would be there for my first talk. However, as we prepared for the talk after the sitting, she apparently slipped out, as she wasn't in attendance when my talk began.

I was disappointed. First, I thought that she might have either been angry with me, and left rather than sit through my talk, or possibly that she thought that I was mad at her, and didn't want to make me lose my focus during the talk. After all, we hadn't spoken since October, and I had no way of knowing what was on her mind or in her heart. Also, I had been thinking that it might have been nice to get a cup of coffee with her, and catch up and see how things were going.

So after the service, the meal and the clean-up, I called her on her cell. She didn't answer, but I left a message saying that I was surprised that she had left, and wasn't sure why, and why don't we get together for coffee and talk? She called me back about an hour later (while I was out grocery shopping) and explained that she hadn't meant to slight me, but that she had brunch plans with some friends, so she left before my talk began rather than having to walk out in the middle of it. And as for coffee, sure, that sounded great - where do I want to meet?

Well, I had been thinking coffee about an hour earlier, but what the hell?, let's meet right now in Virginia Highlands. The groceries could wait in the car. So, we met and talked and talked, and she caught me up on all the things that had been going on in her life, and vice-versa.

It was good to see her. After the coffee, we talked some more, and eventually dropped the groceries off at my house, and even wound up going out to dinner (lots of catching up to do).

So, when I woke up this morning, I had no idea that I would be giving my first dharma talk, no idea that I would be meeting L. for coffee, no idea that we would be having dinner together.

A rather remarkable day.

One Bright Pearl

Sesshin today was from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., and was long and hard and exhausting and deeply satisfying.

"The whole Universe in ten directions is one bright pearl." The point is that the whole Universe in ten directions is not vast and great, not meager and small, not square or round, not centered or straight, not in a state of vigorous activity, and not disclosed in perfect clarity. Because it is utterly beyond living-and-dying, going-and-coming, it is living-and-dying, going-and-coming. And because it is like this, the past has gone from this place, and the present comes from this place. When we are pursuing the ultimate, who can see it utterly as separate moments? And who can hold it up for examination as a state of total stillness?

The expression "The whole Universe in ten directions is one bright pearl" originates with Gensa (835-907). After he had attained the truth at last, he taught people with the words that the whole Universe in ten directions is one bright pearl. One day a monk asks him, "I have heard the Master's words that the whole Universe in ten directions is one bright pearl. How should the student understand this?" The Master says, "The whole Universe in ten directions is one bright pearl. What use is understanding?" On a later day the Master asks the question back to the monk, "The whole Universe in ten directions is one bright pearl. How do you understand this?" The monk says "The whole Universe in ten directions is one bright pearl. What use is understanding?" The Master says, "I see that you are struggling to get inside a demon's cave in a black mountain."
- Dogen Zenji, 1238

Porn, Columbus and Ignorance

"Our own images have been stolen from us and licensed back in socially-approved and disapproved versions. The approved version appears as glamour, fashion, and privileged promiscuity. The disapproved version appears as pornography. This is a difference in marketing style, not a moral distinction."

Last night, my friend K. and I went to dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant in Atlanta, Nuevo Laredo Cantina. Their mole sauce is to die for. Afterwards, I turned on The Daily Show and who do I see as the evening's guest? Why, none other than my old college political science professor, Howard Zinn! Zinn has written several books, including A People's History of the United States, and was on the show plugging his newest book, Voices of a People's History . . . etc. On the show, he talked about Las Casas' narrative of Columbus' exploits. Las Casas was a priest on Columbus' voyages, and later had moral misgivings about the enslavement, exploitation and genocide that Columbus brought upon the Indians. A good description of what Columbus really had done is provided in A People's History, and can be found here.

Anyway, tonight is the start of the January sesshin, with the theme this month of ignorance (avidya), a subject with which readers of this blog should now be quite familiar.

Sorry about such a disjointed blog entry today, but it's the best that I can do right now. I guess it's the mind that's disjointed.

India Tribe Members Survive Tsunami

JIRKATANG, India (AP) -- Armed with bows and arrows, seven men from the ancient Jarawa tribe came out of the forest Thursday for the first time since India's isolated Anadaman and Nicobar islands were shaken by an earthquake and battered by a tsunami. In a rare meeting with outsiders, the men said all 250 members of the tribe escaped inland and were surviving on coconuts.

"We are all safe after the earthquake. We are in the forest in Balughat," said one of the men, Ashu, who said he was in his early 20s.

The seven Jarawa men - wearing only underwear and amulets - emerged from the forest to meet at this outpost with government officials, who were accompanied by two reporters and a photographer for The Associated Press. The men stopped the AP photographer from taking pictures. "We fall sick if we are photographed," Ashu said. In the past, tourists who have tried to take photographs have had their cameras smashed by tribesmen.

Even though the Jarawas sometimes meet with local officials to receive government-funded supplies, the tribe is wary of visitors. "My world is in the forest," Ashu said in broken Hindi through an interpreter. "Your world is outside. We don't like people from outside."

The Jarawas didn't have any contact with government authorities until 1996. A year later, tribesmen stormed a police outpost and killed a guard with arrows. But relations with police have calmed, said an officer, who called the Jarawas "good friends."

Relations with townspeople seem more prickly. Ethnic Indians expressed wariness of their neighbors from the forest, and both sides remain as far apart as they were nearly a decade ago when contact with the tribe was first made. During the height of summer, when water holes dry up, Jarawas often come into town looking for water. Their presence frightens some villagers, and police sometimes are called in to persuade the tribesmen to leave.

Ethnic prejudice is evident. When asked whether tribespeople live near town, an Indian shopkeeper sniffed: "Jarawas don't live here. Only humans."

Anthropologists estimate the island's primitive tribes have dwindled to only 400 to 1,000 people. Most of the territory's 350,000 people are members of the larger Nicobarese tribe and ethnic Indians. Some DNA studies indicate the tribes' ancestors may have left Africa 70,000 years ago and passed through what is now Indonesia before settling on these islands, scientists say.

Government officials and anthropologists have speculated ancient knowledge of the movement of wind, sea and birds may have saved the indigenous tribes from the tsunami that killed 901 people and left 5,914 missing on the islands. But Ashu and his companions refused to talk about how they avoided the devastating waves.

Ashu showed off his bow, arrows and a metal box containing ash with which he smears his face and forehead during ceremonies. He gestured with his hands and asked for "khamma" -- water in the dialect used by the Jarawas -- and drank from a bottle Shokai offered to him.

Shokai: Ashu, what do you typically eat, out there in the forest and all?

Ashu: Pork and fish killed with arrows. And we like honey.

Shokai: How about the packages of cookies tourists sometimes throw from buses?

Ashu: We don't like when tourists throw things at us. They should give it to our hands.

Shokai: Can I offer you a Snickers bar and a banana?

Ashu: Packaged food upsets our stomachs. We prefer to eat green and roasted bananas. Ripe bananas make us sick.

Shokai and Ashu became good friends. Ashu said that he will come and visit Shokai one day, but that he should be patient - it takes a long time to paddle a dugout all the way from the Indian Ocean.

This Is Not Funny

So, you're probably asking yourself, what's going on when I'm not talking about poinsettias, tidal waves, or the Titanic?

Sunday, I did successfully get the duct tape marks off of my car. It was a beautiful, warm (70s!) day, and I found a little baby garter snake (about 6 inches long) laying on the driveway. At first, I thought he was dead, that I had run him over or something, but I realized that he was only, I dunno, sleeping?, as his only move was a little wiggle after I poked him with my toe. I picked him up by his tail and set him back down on native ground, and that seemed to revive him - he slithered away under some leaves.

I like it that wild things live in this neighborhood - squirrels, chipmunks, foxes, and snakes.

Sunday night, I sat down to watch the Auburn-Virginia Tech game, only to realize that the last two games of the season weren't Sunday and Monday like I had thought, but rather Monday and Tuesday.

After the week off from work, my body rhythm is starting to get back to normal. I was able to put myself to bed around midnight Sunday; however, I woke up at 3:30 Monday morning and couldn't get back to sleep. I finally quit trying to sleep and got out of bed by 5:30, and actually made it to the office Monday morning before 8:00 a.m. Nobody was there to notice, though.

Monday night was the usual opening at the zendo, so I missed most of the Auburn-Virginia Tech game. On Tuesday night, I went to the Buckhead Community Planning Unit meeting, so I missed the first half of the Orange Bowl. Witch Doctor Jim might have won the pool, but at least Oklahoma didn't win the game for him. I know I said "no more spreadsheets," but for those of you keeping score at home, here's the final results:


Tonight, I was supposed to return to karate, but I was dragging butt all day and just didn't feel like going. Fuggit.

So that's the skinny. Any questions?