December 9, 2023

Apparently I’m a bohemian weirdo.

I have a degree in English literature, and it seems that humanities departments and degrees are a vanishing breed at colleges and universities across the United States. Young people today are understandably wanting to get more practical education in technology and science, but in their pursuit of bigger paychecks they have less and less time and/or interest in subjects such as history, philosophy, sociology, art, and literature.

“We should hail the return of the arts and humanities to bohemian weirdos. [Those subjects] began as something for which there were no career opportunities or money to be made, and thence [they] will return.” So said Drew Lichtenberg, theater critic, quoted recently in the New York Times.

I can vouch for the accuracy of the notion that there is little money to be made from an English degree. I rarely used that degree professionally, and this month I’m retiring from my social science research job. As a Field Interviewer for the past 30 years, I never made much money, though I enjoyed the flexible hours, freedom to travel at will, and opportunity to use my Spanish language skills. My reading and writing skills have long been useful, but not compensated.

Yet in the view of New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd, now more than ever we need the wisdom and perspective of great writers such as William Shakespeare to help us understand the dangers of the lusts for power, fame, and money. And we need students and citizens alike to reflect on the lessons offered by historians and philosophers, in order to cope with the global rise of authoritarianism and current threats from social media and the potential menace of artificial intelligence.

Perhaps as an antidote to American political dysfunction, climate change, global wars, ad nauseum, I like to read literary classics that give me some insight into human nature and the nature of reality. The book I’m currently reading, Dante’s The Divine Comedy, has little or no humor – in the 14th century Italian of his time, “commedia” meant a story with a happy ending. In this long poem, Dante takes a journey to Hell, then Purgatory, and finally to Heaven – the happy ending. As Dante was a devout Catholic, I was amused that in his visit to Hell he found several popes, along with Mohammed. I don’t think he was trying to be funny.

Although I’m no longer a Catholic, I do share his belief or hope that the ultimate solution to human ignorance and suffering will be a spiritual one, whether it be through a belief in God or an awakening to some form of cosmic consciousness. Humanity needs a divine comedy, a happy ending.

For now I look forward to my imminent retirement, and my new calling as a full time bohemian weirdo. There may be zero pay in this offbeat vocation, but the benefits should be excellent.

November 6, 2023

I don’t usually think of the words beauty and politics in the same sentence. So in these self centered and polarized times, it was gratifying to be reminded yesterday that there are people who have used their skills of persuasion and negotiation in the service of something greater than themselves: the natural world and the common good.

Yesterday I was fortunate to attend a screening of a recent documentary about one such public servant. “Stewart Udall: The Politics of Beauty” is the story of the man who helped protect the Grand Canyon from hydroelectric dams, the man who helped create Point Reyes National Seashore, Redwood National Park, and Canyonlands National Park, among others, and the man who helped establish the Wilderness Act and the Endangered Species Act. And those achievements are just a fraction of the contributions that Udall made to America the beautiful.

I remember Stewart Udall as the Secretary of the Interior for presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson in the 1960’s. But I had forgotten that he was one of the towering figures of the American environmental movement, joining heroes such as John Muir, Teddy Roosevelt, Rachel Carson, and David Brower.

And I did not know that he was an early advocate for treating black Americans and American Indians with respect. Nor did I know that he left the Mormon Church over its refusal to allow blacks in its priesthood.

Another thing I learned from the film is that “Udall called on all Americans to move away from our emphasis on economic growth and consumerism and toward quality of life, and a new politics centered on beauty, frugal living, appreciation of nature and the arts, and a recognition of Earth’s limits.”

Wow. How is it that I, and we, could have forgotten this wise defender of human dignity and planet Earth?

Yet in spite of his successful bipartisan work with people of both political parties to protect and preserve our natural environment, I’m no longer convinced that politics can bring about the shift in values and priorities that Udall advocated. Politics might be a way to implement Udall’s idealism, but politicians are usually followers, not leaders, of public opinion. Change has to start from the grass roots, from an alteration in human consciousness regarding what is important to people in their everyday lives. And for most people at this time, jobs and financial security are what they are most concerned about, not beauty, frugal living, appreciation of nature and the arts.

Climate change may alter our perception of our options and preferred outcomes. In the coming years we may be forced to simplify our lives and recognize Earth’s limits.

Damn – we may be compelled to have a love affair with the wonder and beauty of the Earth.

But however we get there – willingly, or kicking and screaming – we will have pioneers of Earth consciousness such as Stewart Udall to thank for pointing us in the right direction.

October 7, 2023

Dubrovnik, Croatia

Power struggles. Money. Tribalism. Treachery. Resilience.

Yes, I’m talking about the fantasy TV series Game of Thrones, much of which was filmed here in the medieval walled fortress city of Dubrovnik. But I’m also referring to the history of the Balkan region, including Greece, Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia Herzegovina, Montenegro, as well as their neighbor Budapest, all of which I’ve been visiting over the last five weeks.

There is much physical beauty in this part of the world, both natural and human-made. From the sunny Greek islands to the mountainous Bay of Kotor in Montenegro; from the ancient Parthenon to the clifftop monasteries of Meteora to the spectacular Church of St Sava in Belgrade, much of this part of Europe is gorgeous.

But as a crossroads of civilizations, this area has seen more than its share of conquest and cruelty. The armies of Alexander the Great, the Roman legions, the Ottoman Turks, the Venetians, the Austro Hungarian empire, all imposed immense suffering and destruction upon the inhabitants of these mountains and coastlines. And then along came the Nazis and the communists and their torture, genocide, and repression.

Our tour group visited Tito’s Bunker, an underground command center built during the Cold War for Marshal Tito of Yugoslavia and his military command. This secret complex of rooms and passageways under a mountain in Bosnia was intended to help Yugoslav leaders repel an invasion or survive a nuclear war. But a wall plaque in one of the rooms, placed there much later, summed up the real issue: “Behold a cathedral of fear, built within a mountain of power, but bigger than it.”

Fear, money, and power were behind the violence of the warring families in Game of Thrones, and the same forces were at work in the Balkan wars of the 1990’s. At that time, with the post communist breakup of Yugoslavia, Serbia attempted to impose its will upon and seize territory from the other former Yugoslav republics, just as its friend Russia is doing today in Ukraine. The Serbs repeatedly bombed a hospital we visited in Vukovar, Croatia, and then captured its patients and staff and executed about 260 of them. Serb snipers targeted and killed 60 children in Sarajevo, along with killing and wounding large numbers of adults. And Serbian forces committed genocide in Srebenica, slaughtering about 8,000 Bosnian civilians. The Serbs weren’t the only guilty parties in that war; Croatia too committed atrocities, as did others. But the Serbs were by far the worst perpetrators of horror.

A few days ago, as our tour group crossed from Bosnia into Montenegro, we came within maybe 100 miles of the border of Kosovo, another former Yugoslav republic that Serbia still covets and claims as Serb territory, even though the vast majority of Kosovars want nothing to do with Serbia. In 1999 Serbia began ethnic cleansing and genocide in Kosovo, until NATO intervened and stopped the rampage. Serbs still feel victimized by NATO, as I found out when I visited their capital of Belgrade. The Serbs I met were friendly, but Serbs in general are often in denial about their past and present relationship with Kosovo.

Yet in spite of the bitter memories of many people in Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia Herzegovina, and elsewhere, the younger generations have mostly moved on from the wartime memories of their parents and grandparents. Last night, at our farewell dinner for this part of my tour, our 30 something tour leader Frano expressed to us his heartfelt appreciation for our visit to his home country Croatia and its neighbors. In his emotional remarks he urged us to look past all the atrocities that we have been learning about in the Balkans, and instead to see that the different Balkan ethnic and religious groups are slowly healing their wounds and intermingling again. He’s optimistic about the future of Croatia.

Given the long history of war in this area, and the complexity of human nature, I’m not quite as sanguine as Frano about the prospects for long term peace. There has to be a massive shift in human consciousness for war to no longer be an option. I expect that throne games, power plays, nationalism, and tribalism will continue for the foreseeable future.

Tomorrow I’ll visit the Fort of St Lawrence, one of the Dubrovnik film locations of Game of Thrones, then join a new tour group as we head up the lovely Dalmatian Coast. After the impressive cities of Athens, Budapest, Belgrade, and tourist-mobbed Dubrovnik, I Iook forward to some downtime on the Croatian islands. And then in a week from now I go home, where I can leave behind the European infighting for the good old USA, where thankfully there is no political drama.

September 6, 2023

Athens

Never before have I seen so many naked young men in public. Everywhere I go in Greece there are handsome faces and beautifully shaped muscles, buttocks, and genitals. But none of them are alive – they’re outdoor statues and indoor museum pieces from Greece’s classic period.

I’ve been told by tour guides that the ancient Greeks considered the human body to be beautiful, so they sculpted and painted young men and women in their physical prime in order to portray idealized masculine and feminine figures. And because young male athletes were naked when they competed in the Olympics and other contests, and naked when they trained for those competitions, public nudity was socially acceptable for men. Not so for women, however.

How times have changed. Now, as I walk around Athens (and other cities and towns in the Western world), it is men who are covered up and women who show the most skin. The weather on this trip has been warm to hot, but I don’t think that’s why I’m seeing so much cleavage and so many butt cheeks peeking out from short shorts. Most women, especially young women, seem to enjoy flaunting their curves in public, and I enjoy the show in the same way that I appreciate the naked muscle studs from ancient times. Beauty is beauty.

Yet perhaps because of male insecurities around homosexuality, we no longer see the masculine form celebrated as the Greeks once did. And because of puritanical religious oppression, women’s bodies are concealed and controlled in many societies, especially in places such as Iran, and Afghanistan under the Taliban. And Texas.

I’m sitting at a rooftop cafe facing the stately Parliament building, and nearby are the graceful, elegant columns of the Parthenon. But not everything is lovely in Athens. It’s a clean city, but except for the giant slum known as São Paulo, I’ve never seen so much graffiti. I hate graffiti wherever I encounter it, because I find it ugly, and indicative of chaotic and negative energy and selfish egoism. I don’t understand why Athenians tolerate it, unless they just can’t afford the massive cleanup costs.

On a recent tour of the northern Greek city of Thessaloniki, also plagued by hideous desecrations of public and private spaces, I asked our guide about the nature and causes of these spray-painted scrawls. He said that some of it is considered art, but most of it is socio/political commentary by anarchists and other opinionated people, or else it is tagging (people, mostly young men, expressing their egos through symbols).

I suppose that beauty will always coexist with ugliness, so maybe I need to learn to tolerate a certain amount of disrespect toward the common good. Still, I wish that anarchists and egomaniacs would confine their negativity and destructive impulses to their private spaces and leave the rest of us alone.

For now I intend to focus on the inspiring architecture of ancient Greece. And I’ll continue being a voyeur and aficionado of gorgeous bare bodies.

So go ahead, boys and girls – let it all hang out.

July 17, 2023

Last night, in a magnificent redwood forest, someone stole nine of my forks.

The crime spree continued when my next door forest neighbor discovered that someone (the same person?) stole three of his water glasses.

These are but two of the countless mini dramas that occur every night at the Bohemian Grove, the exclusive private men’s club where I work as a food server for four weeks every summer. My next door neighbor Brian (our tables are adjacent) and I are two of about 250 food servers and bussers that wait on dozens of picnic tables in the outdoor Dining Circle under the stars.

It’s a beautiful setting (for a more detailed description of my experience at the Bohemian Grove, scroll down to my July 24 2022 post entitled The Whale in the Forest). But while it may appear serene on the surface, there are underlying tensions as hundreds of servers, bussers, kitchen staff, and managers jostle and scramble behind the scenes to quickly and efficiently serve an average of 1,000 dinner guests every night. While our interactions are mostly harmonious, low-key conflicts do arise, and the pressures of cheerful speedy service cause many of us to discreetly complain about each other.

The reason that Brian and I were offended by the theft of our forks and water glasses is that those items and all other parts of the table settings are readily available in the kitchen area. Our two tables were already elegantly set, so someone(s) decided to save themselves a short walk to the kitchen by taking items from our place settings behind our backs. While we eventually laughed about the pilfering, we were incredulous that anyone would be so lazy and inconsiderate as to remove our carefully placed utensils and glassware.

The problem with any kind of stealing, even the relatively benign “borrowing” that Brian and I experienced, is that it creates mistrust and ill will. I now feel a need to guard against other in-house restaurant predators and culinary scoundrels, silly as that seems. Other servers have told me that they too have to protect their tables from would-be snatchers. I now have a new appreciation for the eighth commandment, Thou Shalt Not Steal. How can co-workers, neighbors, or strangers get along in any society if some people feel it’s acceptable to take items from others without their knowledge or permission?

I wasn’t going to write about such a seemingly petty topic until I read an interesting article in today’s New York Times about a recent gathering of Roma (gypsies) and Travellers (Irish nomads) in England. These two groups, with different origins but similar cultures, are sometimes appreciated, defended, and romanticized. But they are mostly reviled, due to their high crime rates in general and penchant for thievery in particular. Both Roma and Travellers are found all over Europe and the United States.

I have seen the colorful traditional Traveller wagons in Ireland, and all over Europe I’ve been warned about Roma pickpockets. A former co-worker told me about how her elderly father was swindled by Roma con-men in San Francisco, where the police told her that they were well acquainted with the Roma community.

Many years ago I met a woman at a party here in Sonoma County who told me that she was a Gypsy. When I asked her if the stereotype of Gypsies being thieves was accurate, she said that yes, unfortunately, it was a deeply embedded part of their culture. I asked her what she thought might be a solution to that problem, and she said one word: education. She herself was a college graduate – as I remember she had a Masters degree – and while she loved her community, she admitted that they needed to learn that stealing not only harms the victims of the thefts, but it harms her Roma community as well by causing everyone else to shun them.

In the greater scheme of things, Roma, Travellers, and Bohemian Grove burglars are all human beings worthy of respect, in spite of their lack of understanding of the need for personal boundaries. I want to get along with all of them. So I have just one message for them.

Don’t touch my damn forks.

June 13, 2023

Have you ever seen a tree raining on itself on a dry day? Neither had I, until a couple weeks ago. And no, I wasn’t in a rain forest – I was right here in the Bay Area.

Except that, in a way, I was in a rain forest. I was hiking with friends at Indian Tree Open Space Preserve in nearby Novato, and near the summit I decided to relieve myself outside of a fairy circle of redwood trees. When I was done watering the tree, I stepped into the redwood circle and placed my hands on one of the tree trunks to express my appreciation for the beauty and the towering magnificence of this living creature.

As I looked up the trunk toward the sky, I was astonished to see a waterfall of scores of droplets bouncing all the way down the tree mast and splashing on my face. Each water drop bounced many times on its long journey down the bark before blessing the ground or my face with its wetness.

Coast redwoods are known for capturing cloud and fog moisture and sending the drippings down to the forest floor. And these woods and I were at the top of a ridge with a marine layer overhead. But I had never taken the opportunity to slow down enough to experience some extended moments in the life of one of these giant beings.

Redwood groves are not as widespread in northern California as they once were. Even so, as a Bay Area native I have tended to take them for granted, even when hiking among them. But my awareness of trees in general, and redwoods in particular, is starting to change.

Two books about trees that I’ve read recently have raised my consciousness about the importance of these life forms to our physical and mental health.

The first is The Overstory, a novel by Richard Powers, in which he introduces the reader to several very different characters living in various parts of the U.S. Toward the end of the book, some of these people meet one another as they are each drawn for diverse reasons to the same gathering of protesters who are trying to prevent the clearcutting of an ancient redwood forest in northern California. The author’s love for these conifers, and for all trees, is palpable, as he suggests that trees are intelligent beings that are being slaughtered by greed and by the human desire to dominate and subjugate other life forms.

As Richard Powers said in an online Conjunctions magazine interview:

“The salvation of humanity – for it’s us, not the world, who need to be saved – and our continued lease on this planet depend on our development of tree consciousness. We are here by the grace of trees and forests. They make our atmosphere, clean our water, and sustain the cycles of life that permit us. Just begin to see them. See them up close and personal. See them from far away across great distances. Notice all the million complex beautiful behaviors and forms that have always slipped right past you. Simply see, and the rest will begin to follow. Every other act of preservation depends on that first step.”

The second book that in the last few weeks has inspired my sense of wonder about trees is one written by the noted Irish botanist Diana Beresford-Kroeger. It’s her autobiography, entitled To Speak for the Trees: My Life’s Journey From Ancient Celtic Wisdom to a Healing Vision of the Forest.

This extraordinary woman was orphaned at age 11, raised in the city of Cork and in the Cork and Kerry countryside by loving relatives who encouraged her love of books and science and taught her the old Irish knowledge of medicinal plants. She has gone on to write a number of books about nature and science, and she wrote and appeared in the documentary, Call of the Forest: The Forgotten Wisdom of Trees (http://calloftheforest.ca), which was based on her book The Global Forest. As she said in her autobiography:

“I want to remind you that the forest is far more than a source of timber. It is our collective medicine cabinet. It is our lungs. It is the regulatory system for our climate and our oceans. It is the mantle of our planet. It is the health and well-being of our children and grandchildren. It is our sacred home.”

After a lifetime of hiking in the oak and redwood forests of northern California, I’m just starting to really see these beings for the first time. I may not be a tree hugger, but I’m becoming a major tree appreciator.

May 9, 2023

Life is unfair. John F. Kennedy

Today a jury in New York found that former president Donald Trump is guilty of sexually abusing his female accuser. Mr. Trump plans to appeal the jury’s verdict, but whatever the outcome of that appeal, the case is a straightforward example of one individual claiming that she was harmed by another individual.

But since time immemorial women as a group have been mistreated and abused by men. Not by all men, but by many men. Does that mean that all males should be punished for their gender’s misdeeds?

This question is on my mind because the issue of revenge and reparations has been in the news a lot lately. King Charles III was crowned monarch of Great Britain a few days ago, but in the events leading up to the coronation it was reported that at least one of Britain’s former colonies – Jamaica, I believe – is considering demanding that Britain pay it reparations for the monarchy’s role in the slave trade centuries ago.

Some women in South Korea feel that Japan still owes them compensation for the Japanese military’s forcing them into sexual slavery in World War II. Russia has been accused of war crimes against humanity for its torture, rape, and murder of civilians in Ukraine, and Ukrainians and others are demanding that Russia pay the cost of rebuilding Ukraine when the war finally ends.

And here in California, a state task force just announced that it recommends that the legislature pay black Californians up to $500 billion in reparations for past school segregation and discriminatory lending practices. California never had slavery, but California taxpayers may be asked to pay a heavy price for the aftereffects of that Southern institution that ended with the Civil War.

Holding individuals accountable for bad behavior is far easier to understand than punishing all men or all white people or all Californians for something that most of them never did. How far back in history should we go to demand restitution from perpetrators? Should Spanish taxpayers now pay for the sins that their ancestors committed against the Incan, Mayan, and Aztec peoples? And should the descendants of the Incan, Mayan, and Aztec people pay reparations to the descendants of the Indian tribes that their ancestors subjugated? What about the descendants of the Comanche people in Texas and Oklahoma – should they be forced to compensate the descendants of the Apache and Navajo people who were forced off of their lands by the Comanches?

In other words, how do you measure to whom is owed what, when the history of the human race is one long list of suffering inflicted by individuals, tribes, and nations upon one another? And who gets to decide who the winners and losers are in the competition to see who wins the victim lottery?

I’m not suggesting that societies should never be held accountable for national misdeeds. But at this stage of human history, I’m more interested in seeing healing and amends on behalf of our common home, planet Earth. Our survival as a species depends on all of us realizing that we must stop exploiting and harming the home we share with each other and with trees, plants, and animals. Yes, the Russians need to pay their debt to Ukraine. But we all need to pay our debt to Mother Earth, Gaia. The oceans, forests, and animals all deserve our appreciation and protection.

Justice? Fairness? I’m more concerned with the future than with the past. Let’s start with service to our Earth mother.

Happy Mother’s Day.

April 2, 2023

New Orleans

Here in the Big Easy, once the largest and richest city of the Confederacy, I’m fascinated by the human capacity for self deception.

I’m here for two weeks to enjoy the gumbo, jambalaya, red beans and rice, and beignets, not to mention the various flavors of jazz, the streetcars, the Mississippi River, and the beautiful old architecture of the French Quarter where I’m staying.

Thankfully I have not experienced the high crime rate that New Orleans is known for, but every day I see the rampant homelessness of destitute people sleeping on the sidewalks.

Folks here have been friendly, but apparently that easygoing way of life also includes tolerance for corrupt politicians and police officers.

I had a long talk the other day with Alan, a 58 year old black musician and street artist, and when I asked him about race relations in this town, he said that there has been a lot of progress since the Jim Crow segregation era ended around the time of his birth in 1964. He confirmed what I have observed so far – that the races coexist harmoniously, at least on the surface. But he said that there still remain some tensions between blacks and whites.

Now, with the large influx of people from Latin America and Asia, that old black/white dichotomy is being diluted here in New Orleans, as elsewhere.

Yesterday I spent a lot of time in the Civil War Museum, a beautiful red sandstone and brick structure built in 1891 as a social hall for Confederate veterans to share their war stories. It’s located next to Lee Circle, a traffic roundabout in the center of which is a 60 foot marble column that until recently was topped by a statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee. Now the column is capped by nothing, the statue being one of four Confederate monuments removed by Mayor Mitch Landrieu in 2017 and stored in a city warehouse.

When I asked a museum employee about the statue removal, she lamented the loss, saying that it was an attempt to erase Southern history and heritage.

The elegant, spacious, wood-paneled interior has an excellent collection of Confederate uniforms, battle flags, swords, guns, portraits, and display cases explaining in a neutral fashion the history and causes of the War Between the States. One of the displays features two 10-dollar bills from before the Civil War, printed by a New Orleans bank in both English and French. Since the French word for 10 is dix, some local sailors referred to those 10 dollar bills as dixies, and ever since the Deep South has been referred to as the land of Dixie.

As is so often the case in combat, young men in the North and South eagerly signed up to fight, thinking that the conflict would be brief and bring them excitement and glory. Little did they realize the immense suffering and death they would encounter.

Most Americans, myself included, see the Civil War as a battle over the preservation or abolition of slavery. But only six percent of Southerners owned slaves, and most Southern soldiers fought not to perpetuate slavery, but to defend their hometowns and states from what they perceived as an invasion from another country.

But the Southern economy was built upon the labor of enslaved people, and what the Confederate soldiers and people failed to fully appreciate is that their way of life and their personal freedoms depended upon depriving other human beings of their freedom.

Abraham Lincoln hated slavery, but in order to avoid hostilities and preserve the union, he offered to let the South keep its slaves as long as it agreed to not expand slavery into the American West. But Southern politicians feared (correctly, I believe) that if non-slave states were added in the West, the South would be outvoted in Congress and it would eventually be forced to give up the slave-based backbone of its agricultural economy. So the Southern states left the union and attacked the federal Fort Sumter in South Carolina, triggering what was probably an inevitable clash and exciting the passions of pro and anti slavery people.

As one museum display explained, “On January 26, 1861 (when Louisiana left the union)…all over New Orleans bells rang and cannons boomed when the news arrived. In the successionists’ jubilant Mardi Gras atmosphere, few foresaw the upcoming years of desolation and despair that would be awaiting them.”

One of the ironies of the struggle between the states is that thousands of immigrants whose people themselves had been collectively oppressed fought on behalf of the South. Although as many as 150,000 Irish were Union soldiers, about 40,000 Confederate soldiers were Irish, and of the 10,000 Jews who participated in the struggle, 3,000 defended the South.

In the (shortened) words of the popular 1859 song “Dixie”:

I wish I was in the land of cotton

Old times they are not forgotten

Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.

I wish I was in Dixie, hooray! hooray!

In Dixie Land I’ll take my stand

To live and die in Dixie.

Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

Given the willingness of the brainwashed Russian masses to support Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, or the fanatical devotees of the Donald Trump cult, I guess it should come as no surprise that we human beings are easily led by our emotions and limited perspectives.

As for me, I intend to continue having a good time here in Dixie. Might as well enjoy the Big Easy before the next hurricane hits.

March 17, 2023

Irish identity is valid, but it’s only a tiny part of the equation. Montgomery Bray

Human consciousness is the last frontier. Montgomery Bray

This morning, on a beautiful sunny green flowery California day of St. Patrick, my longtime friend and comrade Montgomery called to say hello. We share an American Irish Buddhist heritage, so it was only natural that we discussed the meaning of this day that honors Ireland’s patron saint.

While we both appreciate the multifaceted aspects of what it means to be Irish, we agreed that our Celtic identity is transient, as is our gender, nationality, religion, and whatever else we might think sets us apart from other people. Yes, we can celebrate Irish music, dance, literature, storytelling, and conviviality, but whether we have multiple lifetimes, as I believe, or whether we live on in some other way, as Montgomery might suggest, our personalities are temporary constructs. So it is limiting and foolish to think that we are only what we seem to be in the present moment.

But since we are here in the present moment, we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

And if we are male or female, black or white or brown or yellow (or green, in my case), unhealthy or healthy, rich or poor, Catholic or Jewish or Muslim or atheist, German or Argentine or Indian or Moroccan, that is what we have to work with this time around. So it behooves us to make the best of our current circumstances, and learn whatever we can from our fortunate or unfortunate situations.

Still, it begs the question: who are we?

So much of the suffering in the world comes from a limited understanding of the nature of our selfhood. Maybe we are Democrats or Republicans, or straight or gay or something else, or young or old. It’s totally understandable that Ukrainians resent Russians, or Koreans have a problem with Japan, or Tutsis in Rwanda hold a grudge against their Hutu killers. And it’s hard to escape those dramas if we find ourselves in the middle of dangerous or life-threatening events. So I don’t want to judge those who suffer from existential threats or psychological or emotional traumas.

But my intuition tells me that Shakespeare was on to something when he said in As You Like It, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” These lives we live are temporary roles we have taken on, in order to grow and evolve and experience life from many different perspectives. No one wants to suffer, but suffering and joy both offer their own lessons. I prefer an easy life, and complain when things don’t go my way. But I have to admit that I’ve learned a lot from my stupid mistakes. Still, if I’m an actor on a stage, I’d rather be in a comedy than a tragedy. Maybe we’re all in both.

In my last blog essay, Adventure With a Purpose, I mentioned Abraham Lincoln’s reference to the “better angels of our nature,” which I said are aspects of our inner wisdom. One of the archangels I named, Sandalphon, has a channeled 17 minute video on YouTube which I find inspiring (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JwRyFYj7qoo). I use it as a meditation video, but Sandalphon says a number of things that I believe are worth considering. He claims that humans are divine light beings who have forgotten who we really are, and that it is time that we remember our true identity as being children of Mother Earth. This video might sound too Christian or too Buddhist or too New Age for some of my readers, but if you are open to a different way of seeing yourself and the planet, it might be worth 17 minutes of your time.

Either way, however you choose to see yourself, and whatever your identity, La Feile Padraig go shona duit: Happy St Patrick’s Day.

February 14, 2023

When I was a boy I’d sometimes go hiking by myself or with friends in the hills above our neighborhood. I wanted to climb the oaks and explore the grassy ridges of the Contra Costa ranchlands, and maybe fly a kite or find buried treasure or at least uncover an arrowhead. Occasionally I’d exuberantly shout “adventures!” because that is what I wanted from life.

Ask and you shall receive.

Growing up, I read stories about explorers such as Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone, and the vision quests of Plains Indian boys such as Crazy Horse. I also enjoyed the imaginary journeys of Dorothy Gale in her many visits to the marvelous Land of Oz. As I got older, I graduated to more sophisticated action classics such as Huckleberry Finn, Moby Dick, the Hobbit, and the Lord of the Rings.

And then, at 17, I stumbled into a Japanese mass movement, and rode that social and religious roller coaster for 15 years before getting off those tracks. But I learned a lot from Nichiren Buddhism, which I still practice 53 years later, though I left the Buddhist organization decades ago. It has been a long, interesting, and stimulating journey of ups and downs, disappointment and disillusionment, and many friendships and valuable lessons.

Nowadays I partially satisfy my curiosity and need for excitement by reading, hiking, and traveling. But starting in the 1980’s I began an interior voyage of discovery, and although I haven’t had to suffer physical deprivations such as those of the Lewis and Clark expedition, I’ve certainly experienced the uncertainties, anxieties, and wonder of uncharted territory as I’ve followed invisible trails into my psyche.

Using a variety of methods such as dreams, meditation, prayer, channeling, automatic writing, journaling, marijuana and LSD, singing, and study, I have been seeking not entertainment or escapism, but awakening to who I am and who we all are. And while I have much to learn on my never-ending quest, I can share a few insights that I’m in the process of absorbing.

First of all, when Abraham Lincoln referred to “the better angels of our nature,” he was appealing to reason and to higher qualities of the mind or spirit that might enable us to avoid a civil war. Alas, his appeal was not successful, and a bloody Civil War ensued. But Lincoln was more perceptive than he may have realized himself. There really are angels and benevolent beings within us, and we can call upon them for guidance and support when we need it.

In the Nichiren tradition from which I come, the shoten zenjin are Buddhist protective gods or helpful forces in the universe, although their identities and powers are not specified. And in the Catholic religion of my childhood, there are guardian angels, as well as archangels with names like Gabriel, Uriel, Ariel, and Sandalphon, who are seen by the Church as external beings with wings but who in reality are aspects of our own inner wisdom.

Many of my friends believe that we live only in a material world, and that we meet people and stuff happens by chance. I disagree.

Intention, positive attitude, and what Nichiren Buddhists call a “high life condition” are crucial to creating and attracting good karma, or good fortune if you prefer. Through the Law of Attraction and the Law of Cause and Effect, higher vibrational frequencies attract more of the same, and we can encounter teachers from higher realms of existence. But these teachers and realms are inside us, not on a cross or a pedestal. We can activate our own Christ consciousness if we want to. We start by asking to do so.

I may not be Lewis or Clark, but I’ve crossed some of these prairies and forded some of these streams. I may not be Martin Luther King, but I too have been to the mountain top – many of them, in fact – and I can report that the view of Gaia, Planet Earth, is beautiful. The human race may be in for a rough ride in the short term, but in the long term we and Gaia will learn that we are one and the same consciousness, and we need to take care of each other.

If we are to enjoy the fruits of the New Earth that teachers such as Eckhardt Tolle and Matias De Stefano talk about, then we need to focus on the emerging human awareness of Gaia rather than the dying and chaotic human civilization of the present. We all need to become bodhisattvas of the Earth, or champions of nature and a higher calling for humanity.

As a boy, I asked for “adventures!” Little did I know that my request would be granted beyond my wildest dreams.

Tomorrow I’m going hiking with friends in the hills of Marin. And on Friday I have an appointment with the better angels of my nature. Should be a fun conversation.