April 2, 2019

It is endlessly fascinating to me how creative we humans are in finding ways to exalt other people or ideas above ourselves. Celebrities, sports heroes, politicians, or religious figures can take on a prominence in our imaginations that supersedes the value of our own identity or self worth.

The tendency to place other beings upon pedestals of reverence was reiterated for me today as I received another email from my friend Karen in continuation of a conversation we began earlier in reference to my March 30 essay, Making Peace (below). In that essay, I had quoted extensively from a book excerpt from Ajahn Sumedho, a Buddhist monk, an excerpt that Karen had kindly shared with me and other members of our meditation group. While finding the quote insightful and wise, I had questioned some aspects of his teaching, prompting a gentle rebuke from Karen: “When I receive a teaching from a teacher of this caliber, I don’t feel it is my place to disagree. It is to be contemplated, chewed thoroughly over time, and digested. Practiced. I may not always like what I hear coming from the mouths of my esteemed teachers, or the suttas (sutras, or teachings). Sometimes the teachings make me uncomfortable, but so be it. The teachings are not meant for us to like or not like, but to lead us to real freedom.”

Now, in fairness to Karen, in a subsequent email she walked back that mild admonishment, clarifying that “I guess I do feel strongly that the teachings and practice sink to a deeper level than our (or I should say my) cognitive sphere, but as the …email I forwarded this morning says, there is more than one way to practice. It all has to be worked out individually.”

Even so, I felt a need to explain to her why I feel so ardently about my need to question authority: “I don’t share your absolute faith in the Thai forest monks, but I do respect them, and am always willing to hear what they have to say…However, allow me to share with you why my perspective is different than yours on the question of allegiance to any religious tradition. As you know, I spent 15 years following the Japanese Buddhist traditions of Nichiren Shoshu (priesthood) and Soka Gakkai International (lay organization). These organizations were once in lockstep with one another, but since I left them in 1984 they have diverged and are now bitter rivals. What they both had (and still have) in common is the expectation of unquestioning loyalty to their dogmas and to their respective leaders (the High Priest and the SGI president). I personally encountered verbal abuse for daring to question their orthodoxies. To me it is a sign of a personality or religious cult when a priest/lay leader/monk cannot be questioned. I refuse to put any religious authority on a pedestal. That is why I will not bow down to a statue of the Buddha or to a monk, after literally and figuratively having done so for years. I don’t object to you or others in our group bowing down to the Buddha statue, nor do I have a problem with your reverence for the various ajahns (teachers). I agree with you that ‘the teachings and practice sink to a deeper level than our cognitive sphere,’ which is why I’m willing to question not only their teachings but my response to those teachings. I question everything and everyone, including myself. It’s part of my learning process. But I will no longer give my power away to the Buddha or Jesus or a monk by believing that their buddha nature is superior to mine. I trust the Law and not the Person. If a monk offers a teaching that rings true to me, I’ll attempt to practice it. But as you said, it all has to be worked out individually.”

So I suppose that Karen and I are more or less in agreement about the need to honor one’s own individual path. But given the hard lessons I had to learn about the pitfalls of idealizing glorified gurus, I’m probably more reluctant to exalt leaders with halos over their heads.

Having said that, I still have my heroes: Abraham Lincoln, Cochise and Tom Jeffords, Crazy Horse, my dad, and others. Flawed beings, all. I respect and appreciate them, but don’t idolize them. If there’s any being I revere, it would have to be the source energy of love and kindness within each one of us. Whatever that is. And conveniently, it’s invisible, so I can’t find fault with it.

In Love I Trust.

March 30, 2019

When we say to you, make peace with where you are, we want you to make peace with where everyone is; we want you to make peace with the world events; we want you to make peace with where your friend is in relationship with where your friend wants to be. We want it to be all right with you where anybody is. Abraham, Abraham-Hicks Publications

When this quote arrived in my email inbox today, it was a message I needed to hear again. It’s a message to relax and let go of expectations and worries, and it’s a reminder that I need to hear frequently. My mind insists on creating new dramas, or repeating old dramas, or otherwise finding or inventing stories to chew on or to become indignant about. And if I don’t have enough on my personal plate to make me feel discontented, my imagination is quite happy to latch on to political or social problems that the New York Times or PBS Newshour think I should be obsessing about. My friend Michelle suggested that I might want to consider fasting from news consumption, and she’s probably right. I’m not quite ready to do that, but I’m getting closer to exploring the possibility that, when it comes to national and international issues, ignorance is bliss.

Yesterday my friend Karen from our Thursday night meditation group forwarded an email quote from a Buddhist teacher that I found illuminating, even if I didn’t completely agree with it:

The freedom from suffering the Buddha talked about isn’t in itself an end to pain and stress. Instead, it’s a matter of creating a choice. I can either get caught up in the pain that comes to me, attach to it and be overwhelmed by it, or I can embrace it, and through acceptance and understanding, not add more suffering to the existing pain, the unfair experiences, the criticisms or the misery that I face. As with the Buddha: even after his enlightenment, he had to experience all kinds of horrendous things. His cousin tried to murder him, people tried to frame him, blame him and criticize him. He experienced severe physical illness. But the Buddha didn’t create suffering around those experiences. His response was never one of anger, resentment, hatred or blame, but one of acknowledgement.

This has been a really valuable thing for me to know. It’s taught me not to ask for favours in life, or to hope that if I meditate a lot, I can avoid unpleasant experiences. ‘God, I’ve been a monk for thirty three years. Please reward me for being a good boy.’ I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work. To accept life without making any pleas is liberating, because I no longer feel a need to control or manipulate conditions for my own benefit. I don’t need to worry or feel anxious about my future. There’s a sense of confidence, a fearlessness that comes through learning to trust, to relax, to open to life, and to investigate experience rather than to resist or be frightened by it. If you’re willing to learn from the suffering in life, you’ll find the unshakability of your own mind. Ajahn Sumedho, Intuitive Awareness

My initial reaction to the above quotes from Ajahn Sumedho was that they suggest a passive or cerebral approach, but when I emailed my objection to Karen, she wrote back saying “It is really important to take note of the part where Ajahn talks about investigation. The practice is anything but passive. Investigation is an activity of the mind that requires focus and also, if it is going to lead to real acceptance and not just distancing, then opening one’s heart to one’s experience.”

I still don’t agree with his statements, It’s taught me not to ask for favours in life…To accept life without making any pleas is liberating…I disagree because, at least for me, asking my higher self for favors or making pleas (to my higher self) are forms of prayer, forms of asking or of stating my intentions for having a better life. I don’t think that prayer is resistance, as he seems to imply, though it certainly suggests a desire for a better outcome than one is currently experiencing. Whether one directs one’s prayers to God, to the buddha within, to the Force, or to angels, there’s a lot to be said for articulating one’s preferences.

In any case, where I think that Abraham and Ajahn Sumedho would agree is about the need to relax and to make peace with where you are.

And once we’ve made peace with our personal status and with world events, what else is there to do? I guess the only thing left to do is to lighten up and have fun.

March 24, 2019

Twenty years ago she was given a death sentence: inflammatory breast cancer, a rare and aggressive form of breast cancer. She survived. Since then it has come back three times, most recently a year ago, and she’s still thriving.

I first met Kay 50 years ago in high school. I was 17, she was 15, and we both were newly minted Buddhists. Being young and full of idealism and naivete, we enthusiastically embraced the goals of individual enlightenment and world peace. I was to eventually learn that our Buddhist organization had a darker side, but at the time I saw our efforts through rose-colored glasses, and Kay was with me every step of the way. One time, in 1972, we had both been desperate to go on a group pilgrimage to the head temple in Japan, and went to the airport with bags packed even though we were not on the list. When the plane took off without us, we were momentarily deflated. Then one of us had an idea: why not go to a restaurant in Berkeley and celebrate our defeat? And so we did, laughing about our disappointment and making further determinations to advance the cause of Nichiren Buddhism. We even donated our Japan travel money to our organization, even though in my case I had earned it through many long hours of washing dishes at $3/hour.

Kay went away to college in Oregon, and I stayed in Berkeley as a student at the university and as a kitchen helper/dishwasher. We stayed in touch by letter and phone, and I went to her wedding in 1977. But although both of us have continued our Buddhist practice, she has remained a loyal member of Soka Gakkai International, and I left the group in 1984. In fact, that divergence in allegiance caused us to lose touch for many years, and I thought I might never see her again.

Then in 1999 I ran into her mother at a grocery store, and her mom told me of Kay’s cancer diagnosis. Shocked, I put aside my past reservations and called her. I didn’t want to have any regrets about having her die without saying goodbye. But instead of saying goodbye, we said hello, and picked up right where we had left off: laughing. And so it has been ever since.

Kay is one of the most positive people I have ever met. She makes Pollyanna seem like Ebenezer Scrooge by comparison. Even the ever-present specter of death doesn’t faze her. I spoke with her by phone earlier today, and we talked candidly about the possibility of the cancer finally claiming her life. And that’s why she has decided to travel and enjoy her life now, rather than looking forward to retirement. She still works four days a week, and has been visiting her kids and grandkids and traveling with her husband. She treats every day as if it might be her last.

To validate her decision to travel as much as she can while she can, I told her the story of my aunt Maria. My uncle John and aunt Maria loved to travel, but were saving their money to enjoy traveling in their retirement. John had already retired, but Maria was still working full time when she learned that she had terminal cancer. She became a recluse, so I wasn’t able to speak with her, but I later learned that she was bitter about never being able to retire and enjoy seeing the world with John. She died a few months after her diagnosis, disappointed at having postponed her life for a future that never arrived. Kay and I both see Maria’s story as a warning: live for today, not tomorrow, because tomorrow may never come.

Kay credits her Buddhist chanting for her survival, and it certainly has contributed to her fighting spirit and her joie de vivre. But I think her sunny disposition has played an equally important role in her longevity. She’s ready to die, but even more importantly, she’s ready to live. Now.

March 20, 2019

I can understand how we humans are more comfortable with people like ourselves. It’s sometimes less stressful to be around other folks of the same religion, gender, sexual orientation, political persuasion, nationality, age range, economic class, or sports team fandom. We don’t have to explain or defend ourselves or our beliefs. We can let down our guard and relax without worrying about being judged or criticized.

But killing people because they look or think differently than we do? Verbally or physically abusing other human beings for no reason, other than that they are not members of our own tribe? No, I don’t understand that at all.

As much as I enjoy traveling the world and encountering people of different ethnicities, I find it easier to relate to other white people, at least initially, whether at home in the United States or in Canada or Europe. There is simply less likelihood of cultural misunderstandings. But while it may often be simpler for me to communicate with people of European heritage, it can sometimes be more rewarding to reach across racial or religious differences and connect with fellow human beings living in very different realities from my own. It’s good to be reminded of our common humanity, even if at times it might seem that we have little in common other than our shared species.

I don’t blame the white nationalists for wanting to preserve the European cultural attributes that have led to prosperity, stability, and opportunities for so many in our Western civilization. I prefer living in a Western society myself. I would rather see Third World countries become more like Europe, North America, Australia, and New Zealand than the other way around. But one of the hard-won lessons still being learned by the more advanced human societies is the importance of tolerance. If we fail to preserve that most important virtue, we will lose the glue that holds our developed commonwealths together.

So what I would say to the white supremacists around the world is this: rather than fearing or resenting Muslims, black people, Jews, or others, why not celebrate the positive qualities of the white culture you claim to admire? It’s so much easier on your karmic repercussions. You don’t have to love or even like non-white people, but at least leave them alone and build a constructive alternative to the chaos of so many developing countries. Hatred is toxic to our bodies, minds, and spirits, but being creative and optimistic is empowering, even if and especially if we are unemployed or sick or have broken families. Appreciate your European and/or American heritage, rather than denigrating someone else’s religion or culture. If you think that Christianity is so wonderful, prove it by becoming a role model for the teachings of Jesus.

But if you insist on harming other people, remember this: no one ever gets away with anything, ever. There’s no such thing as impunity or injustice in the grand scheme of things. The law of cause and effect will teach you painful lessons in karmic justice. And that means that, more than likely, your soul will choose to be reborn in one of the very groups you now despise, in order to learn lessons in compassion and empathy to compensate for the negativity you create in this lifetime. So think about that before you continue upon a foolish and ignorant path. Jesus and the Buddha didn’t hate anybody, and if you are wise, neither will you.

Trade in your white for light.

March 16, 2019

To pick a flower, or not to pick a flower – that is the question.

Recently I went hiking at Armstrong Redwoods State Park in Guerneville, CA with some people from one of the hiking groups to which I belong. The sunny day was a welcome respite from the heavy rains that had caused the nearby Russian River to flood the towns of Guerneville and Monte Rio. At one point we stopped to take a break by a cluster of daffodils at Bullfrog Pond, and “Donna” mentioned that in a previous hike to the same spot she was about to pick those same daffodils when her boyfriend spotted a ranger and warned her to stop. It’s illegal to remove plants or animals from state and national parks. Donna explained to us that she knew she shouldn’t pick flowers in a park, but she rationalized her intended behavior by saying that the flowers would soon fade away, and besides that, few people would see them anyway due to a road closure caused by the heavy rains. I could have pointed out that had she picked the daffodils on her previous hike, we wouldn’t have been able to enjoy them on our hike that day. But, not wanting to shame or embarrass her, I said nothing.

The following week I happened to return to Bullfrog Pond with “Carla,” one of Donna’s and my hiking companions from the previous week. Once again we admired the daffodils, but since Donna wasn’t with us this time I decided to ask Carla about her views on the ethics of picking flowers on public property. To my surprise, she said that she could understand Donna’s rationalization, since it is true that the yellow beauty of daffodils is fleeting. But she also acknowledged her own anger at having flower thieves dig up decorative plants at one of her previous residences, and severely cut back ti plants at another former home.

I in turn mentioned an encounter I had a few months earlier with a homeless man in front of my local library. As I walked along the sidewalk I saw a man enter the landscaping with a pair of clippers and proceed to snip orange poppies and pink camellias from the bushes. I’ve seen the man around town many times with his dog and a shopping cart filled with his belongings, and I know that he likes to wear a garland of flowers in his hair, but never knew where he got the blossoms. Now I knew. I stopped, and debated whether as a good citizen I should say something to the man or whether I should mind my own business and leave him alone. I decided to speak up. I said to him, “Don’t you think it would be better to leave the flowers for everyone to enjoy?” He looked at me, seething, as if he was showing great restraint at my rudeness. He said nothing, and continued to clip the flowers. I thought of calling the police, but decided that since he wasn’t uprooting and stealing the plants I wouldn’t take any further action.

Why did I choose to confront the homeless man and not Donna? Probably because with Donna there were other people around, and I didn’t want to question her ethics in front of them. Also because she’s only an occasional hiking comrade, and I don’t know her well enough to risk alienating her with what could be perceived to be a holier than thou attitude. With the homeless man I had less to lose, unless he had chosen to become belligerent as a result of being accosted by a stranger.

Carla then told me of an environmental science term that I did not remember having heard of before: the tragedy of the commons. I later learned that the phrase was coined by American ecologist and philosopher Garrett Hardin in 1968 to refer to selfish individuals, governments, or corporations that take natural resources for themselves without consideration of the common good. Examples of this would be strip mining, clear-cutting forests, polluting air or water, population growth, or overfishing. Hardin later said that he should have labeled such egoistic behavior “the tragedy of the unregulated commons.”

My understanding of the concept of the commons is that, ideally, natural resources should be protected or shared via some form of voluntary cooperation, and failing that, that they should be regulated by governments to ensure that the harvesting of such resources is sustainable and shared equitably. It’s to everyone’s benefit that we all enjoy clean air and water and healthy fisheries on an ongoing basis.

But most people and institutions don’t understand the need for long term planning or for a broader planetary perspective. Even the idea of the commons is poorly understood worldwide. In my travels in India, Egypt, Morocco, Cambodia, and elsewhere, I’ve been disgusted by the garbage I’ve seen strewn everywhere. In speaking to educated locals in those countries, I’ve learned that poor people understand the desirability of keeping their own homes clean, but they view public spaces as not their responsibility, so they don’t think twice about throwing garbage out of train or bus windows or littering as they walk down the street. My informants tell me that the solution to the problem of trash in public places is to educate people about the health and social benefits of a clean environment.

Whether it’s uneducated people in poor countries, or short-sighted governments and avaricious corporations in developing and developed countries, the problem is the same worldwide: a failure to understand that we are all on this planet together, and that we need a radical adjustment of our understanding of what it means to be human. And a dramatic reevaluation of our ability to coexist with other species.

I’m not a socialist or a capitalist. I’m fine with free enterprise as long as it doesn’t exploit people or nature, and I’m fine with socialism as long as it doesn’t become totalitarian. I am a pragmatist, which means that I recognize the existential necessity of defending the common good and promoting the well being of the entire planet, not just a few wealthy individuals, countries, or businesses. The climate change that we are already experiencing will increasingly become harmful to all of us, but political, economic, and technical solutions will not be enough. In my view, what is needed internationally is a change of consciousness, a change in our collective mindset or morality, as to how we see our world and how we see each other.

How will we achieve such a psychological, social, or spiritual awakening? I don’t know. It does seem that we humans are choosing to learn these survival and prosperity lessons the hard way, at least for the foreseeable future. We may end up destroying much of the planet as part of our learning process of saving it, to paraphrase a quote from the Vietnam war. But it is my hope that eventually, consciously or unconsciously, we will evolve to the point that we will learn to live in harmony with each other and with the Earth. We really have no other viable alternative.

In the meantime, maybe a lot more individual and collective self reflection and mindfulness are in order: Where do we draw the line between mine and ours?

March 11, 2019

I have sometimes heard people say that they have no regrets about the life they’ve lived. I find it hard to believe that anyone could get through life without feeling “sad, repentant, or disappointed over something that has happened or been done, especially a lost or missed opportunity,” as one online dictionary defined regret. Maybe what people really mean when they deny having regrets is that they haven’t allowed their regrets to define or ruin their lives.

I was prompted to reflect upon the nature of regret as a result of my last blog post, “Now,” dated March 5. In that post I mentioned that my old friend Montgomery and I had traded amusing anecdotes about our mutual friend Sherman, an entertaining character now deceased. What I did not mention in that earlier entry is that Sherman, a charming and humorous fellow, was also an abuser of drugs and alcohol. When speaking of Sherman, Montgomery and I usually choose to remember the funny moments and sayings from his colorful life. But my March 5 essay triggered a bit of contrition in Montgomery, and he has given me permission to share the following remorseful comments that he emailed me in response to that earlier reminiscence:

“I enjoy remembering things that I now find amusing or somehow meaningful, but it works the other way too. As I grow older I am plagued by memories of times when I was less than kind or courageous toward others…I wish that I could go back and do over so many moments where I could have been encouraging to people rather than being passive, but it doesn’t work that way. To all the people who might have been less than human to me, I would like to say that ‘it’s cool, no hard feelings, and I wish you the best.’ I failed Sherman because I know there were times when I could have reached out to him and at least declared my regard for him or at least the part that was the intelligent, creative, and witty person I knew. The other part of Sherman, the drug and alcohol user, I deliberately avoided. One thing is for sure: it takes a hell of a lot of wisdom to be a human being.”

And here’s the email response that I sent to Montgomery:

“Yes, you’re right – it does take a hell of a lot of wisdom to be a human being. And part of that wisdom is to forgive ourselves and others for our/their shortcomings. We all fail ourselves and each other at various times in our lives – see my blog posts ‘Barbara’ dated January 24 and ‘Forgiveness’ dated February 2 of this year. But hopefully we learn from each lifetime and gradually evolve toward more compassion and courage by the end of each incarnation. Luckily we all get to have do-overs; they’re called reincarnation. I don’t know what lessons Sherman and Mike (another mutual friend with substance abuse problems) learned this time around, but I hope they will avoid addictions next time. At least you and I offered them friendship and a respite from their demons. Could we have done more? Maybe. But we did the best we could with our limited skills/understanding at that time. And we will meet them again, and may be able to be of more service to them (and others) on those occasions. And now that we’ve learned some lessons in regret, we can pay those lessons forward by being kind and encouraging toward whoever we encounter in our remaining years. Honinmyo (a Buddhist term meaning ‘from this moment on’).”

In other words, regrets are OK if they inform our now, rather than causing us to feel guilt about the past. Honinmyo means to live in the present moment.

So Sherman and Mike, may you both enjoy your now on your side of the veil, and Montgomery and I will do the same, here and now, on our side of the veil. Until we meet again.

March 5, 2019

Past and future veil God from our sight. Burn up both of them with fire. Rumi

I spend a lot of time thinking about the past or worrying about or living in the future. Not wise, I admit, but all too human. When I was young I dreamed a lot of a better future, and now that I’m, uh, no longer young, I spend more time remembering the past than I care to admit to myself or to you.

I was reminded of this tendency yesterday as I exchanged emails with my old friend Montgomery. We were trading stories about Sherman, one of our now deceased Buddhist buddies. Sherman was funny, creative, irreverent, and quick witted. As Montgomery tells it, in the 1970’s he and Sherman “went to see the The Godfather at a movie theater in Berkeley. It was a very violent film, and when the lights went on we were subjected to what was tantamount to a sermon by a young, long haired, and self righteous gentleman. He said, ‘Did you like that violence, people? Did you find that entertaining?’ Sherman was the only person to reply. He said, “Why did you wait until after the movie to tell us this?’ The whole place broke out in laughter, squelching the young man’s screed.”

I enjoy talking with Montgomery in person, by phone, and by email, because in addition to discussing our current lives and travels we speak fondly of current and departed friends. But it occurred to me that maybe he and I sometimes live too much in our shared past. On the other hand, if talking about Sherman makes us laugh and feel good in the present moment, what’s wrong with that? And his Godfather story about Sherman is a wonderful example of someone being so present that he could transform an awkward social moment into an opportunity to allow a theater full of people to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Sherman lit up the theater, thus enabling a number of people to share a moment of enlightenment.

Like most people in the developed world, I’m too damn busy. I need to slow down, breathe, and appreciate each moment. A little while ago I went out to the mailbox, and made a point of noticing the cool winter air, the fading daffodils, the bare trees, and the quiet of my rural neighborhood. I feel so good when I remember to take a few moments to breathe and to align myself with my inner stillness.

One of my best experiences of being truly present in the moment was sitting by my dad’s bedside as he lay dying. He had been in a coma for two days, and I got to be alone with him in his final hours until my two sisters rejoined us at the very end. He was a good man and a great father, and I was filled with appreciation for his love and support, as well as his peaceful death. As I sat next to him, listening to his slowing breathing, I kept hearing in my head a hauntingly beautiful song by Andrea Bocelli. I didn’t know the name of the song, but it somehow captured the poignancy of the moment as Dad and I did nothing but be together. I was sad to be losing him, but assured his sleeping, atheist self that we would meet again. And I was blessed and honored to be with him at the end of his life. I felt eternity and serenity in a way that I have rarely felt, as time stood still and Dad and I were together forever.

A few minutes ago I googled Andrea Bocelli to see if I could learn the name of the touching, uplifting, bittersweet song that was my farewell music with my dad. I was successful. The song: Time to Say Goodbye.

Sherman and my dad may be in my past. And yes, I have let them go. But they are also in my present. And I’m enjoying their company. Now.

March 1, 2019

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. Shakespeare, MacBeth.

There’s a part of me that craves power, status, and glory. And being aware of my own egocentric nature, my soul has wisely deprived me of the aphrodisiacs of power, status, and glory in this incarnation. But my ego is not happy about that deprivation. So it fantasizes about being an all powerful ruler.

Sometimes when I read or watch the news I’m so appalled by the state of the world that I imagine how I would fix everything if only I were Benevolent World Dictator. The job of President of the United States isn’t good enough for me, because I wouldn’t want to put up with a pesky Congress or the constraints of the judicial system. I want absolute power.

And that is why I feel that to some extent I understand the motivations of dictators like Kim Jong Un of North Korea, Daniel Ortega of Nicaragua, Nicholas Maduro of Venezuela, and authoritarian leaders such as Xi Jinping of China, Vladimir Putin of Russia, and Recep Tayyip Erdogan of Turkey. Blinded by ambition and the need to control others, they probably believe that they know what’s best for their countries. Just like my ego believes that it would do a better job than those clowns in Washington. Not unlike some of the political rants I see on Facebook.

In other words, political leaders are not much different than you and me. That’s probably why some people including myself enjoy the TV series Game of Thrones or Shakespeare’s play MacBeth – we recognize that the fear, greed, treachery, and amoral behavior that we see on stage or screen is a reflection, consciously or unconsciously, of our own benighted condition. Or as New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote yesterday, “Trump, personifying the worst elements in our culture, is like a providentially sent gong meant to wake us up and direct us toward a better path.”

So yes, I intend to wake up, acquire more empathy and compassion, and continue on the path of oneness with the Christ/Buddha consciousness. But in the next election, just remember: Dave for Dictator! I think that has a nice ring to it, don’t you?

February 22, 2019

How much of our experience is determined by ourselves as individuals, and how much of our life is influenced or shaped by social forces beyond our control? Are we innocent victims or pawns on a chessboard, or are we the authors, consciously or unconsciously, of all that happens to us?

These are some of the questions that occurred to me yesterday after reading a New York Times article by Astead W. Herndon entitled “2020 Democrats Embrace Race-Conscious Policies, Including Reparations.”

“Senator Kamala Harris of California (said) that government reparations for black Americans were necessary to address the legacies of slavery and discrimination…’We have to be honest that people in this country do not start from the same place or have access to the same opportunities,’ she said. (Senator Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts) also said she supports reparations for black Americans impacted by slavery – a policy that experts say could cost several trillion dollars , and one that Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders, and many top Democrats have not supported.”

There are a number of practical reasons why it is extremely unlikely that any reparations will ever be paid to African Americans: Where would the money come from? Who would be paid – long time residents only? Recent black immigrants? Would wealthy people such as Oprah Winfrey get a government check? How about mixed race people like Barack Obama – would he only get half a check? What about American Indians – should they be compensated for the taking of their land? Women and Jews have suffered discrimination – what about them? How do we measure who deserves what, if anything, from the government?

I agree with Kamala Harris that “people in this country do not start from the same place or have access to the same opportunities.” That is true the world over. And while I would agree that government, charities, and individuals should help those who are less fortunate if they are able to do so, there are many reasons for inequality besides discrimination, including poor health, dysfunctional families, alcohol and drug addiction, and other personal circumstances or choices.

And there’s another reason for inequality in the world. It’s called karma.

Thomas Jefferson was right: All men are created equal. But we are not equally wise, talented, or fortunate. In my view, our souls choose different circumstances in order to learn and evolve. One might choose a life of poverty in one lifetime, and a life of great wealth in the next. Or select the body of a Chinese male this time around, and a Peruvian female next time. In addition to choices of gender, nationality, ethnicity, and class, I think that we also choose our parents, health, and other factors that influence the quality of our lives. But as we live our various incarnations, we make decisions about how to behave and how to treat other people, and those decisions, intentions, and behaviors have consequences, or karma, that influences the trajectory of our lives.

In other words, what goes around comes around. We are not innocent victims of other people’s actions. We create our own justice.

That doesn’t mean that we have to be passive in the face of abuse. Even if our karma has attracted negative energy or people, we have the right to stand up for ourselves. But ultimately, we are responsible for our attitudes, conduct, and happiness, and if other people treat us badly, that is their karma for which they will reap the result.

I don’t believe in the politics of resentment, blame, and recrimination, though I certainly understand the desire and need to address social issues where there is imbalance and suffering. But I would rather focus on appreciating the people who are doing good in the world, and make whatever positive contribution I can to planetary awakening and harmony.

As the architect of my life, I owe it to myself and to others to be a wise, responsible creator of my world. And to have fun while doing it.

February 18, 2019

The sun is shining, and it’s a beautiful clear day. After days of rain, we’re in for a week of good weather. It’s wintertime, and the livin’ is easy. Except when it ain’t.

In spite of all the things I have to be grateful for – excellent health, good family, lots of friends, enough money, pretty surroundings – for the last few days I’ve been experiencing a winter of discontent. And I’m not sure why. Oh, I had a mostly good day yesterday, hiking with some friends and dinner with others. And today is off to a good start. But something is troubling me on one level or another, and I’d like to figure out what it is so that I can heal the pain and move on. Maybe I’ll figure it out, and maybe I won’t. But at least I need to try.

I’ve managed to keep up a cheerful front, so I don’t think that anyone else has noticed my anger, irritability, impatience, or cynicism. I’ve kept it to myself as much as possible, as I usually do. That’s one of the advantages of living alone – no one has to hear my private rants. But last night I confessed to myself the frustrations that I’ve been feeling, and asked my higher power for help. I awakened this morning with the following dreams: 

Inside a very large community tipi, I saw many young Lakota people preparing for a stage reenactment of the Wounded Knee massacre. I was intrigued to note that Indian boys were dressed as cavalry soldiers, and was curious to watch and listen as they portrayed the killers of their own people. But there was noise from other conversations in the tipi, so I moved closer to hear the kids better as they rehearsed their lines…Walking with a young woman, I offered her encouragement for which she was very grateful. I asked her to pay it forward to someone else…As I awakened, I heard the words and tune to a song: “Oh, the flowers that I know best, are the flowers in my own chest.” I saw yellow daffodils in full bloom sprouting from my chest.

As a sometime student of dreams, I know that all the people in the dreams, from the Lakota kids to the young woman, are aspects of myself. And as someone who has visited the South Dakota site of the Wounded Knee massacre, I know the sad history of that 1890 event. I suspect that the soldiers represent my own killer or shadow side, the anger within me. But I’m gratified to note that the dreams ended on a positive note, with something lovely emerging from my heart. The flower image is reminiscent of the Buddhist symbol of the lotus flower which blooms from the mud at the bottom of a swamp. My shadow may be the mud, but the daffodils are a sign of hope that my ugly nature may produce something good after all.

Wishful thinking? Possibly. I’m reminded of my friend Julie, who once joked that her spiritual practice was “Maintenance Buddhism: it keeps you feeling good, while everything around you crumbles.” It could be that these dreams are a form of whistling past the graveyard, keeping up my spirits in the face of fears of a darker reality. But even if that’s the case, so what? Maybe my higher self answered my prayers, and maybe it didn’t. All I know is that I feel better today than I have for the last few days.

I think I’ll take my shadow out for a walk in the sunshine. It’s a beautiful day.