June 10, 2021

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost. J.R.R. Tolkien

I can think of only one story where a scruffy homeless man becomes a king.

The words vagabond, nomad, rambler, tramp, and gypsy are not usually terms of endearment. I call myself a wanderer – to be specific, one of the Sonoma County Wanderers, also known as a group of hikers who regularly traverse local trails seeking nature, exercise, and comradery. Our slogan is “Not all those who wander are lost.” But while some of our hikers know that our motto originated with Tolkien, few if any of them know the name of the character to whom that phrase refers.

In his essay “Walking,” Henry David Thoreau describes the act of wandering by foot as a sacred undertaking, a higher calling, a pilgrimage to the Holy Land of the natural world. He says that there are at least two origins of the word “saunterer”: a pilgrim (Sainte-Terrer, or one who goes to the Holy Land), and a person without a home (sans terrer).

A pilgrim suggests a person on a religious or spiritual journey, such as many of those who walk the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain seeking to find themselves or God or some kind of adventure or epiphany.

A person without a home implies a transient, rootless individual who is just trying to survive.

The difference between a pilgrim and a homeless person is that the former has a sense of purpose or mission, whereas a person without a home may or may not feel a higher calling.

According to Thoreau, “every walk is a sort of crusade…to go forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels” (civilization).

The reason that I’m currently reading The Lord of the Rings for the fifth or sixth time is that Tolkien’s fantasy trilogy inspires me, especially at a time of recent political, social, and economic turmoil. The journey of four hobbits, an elf, a dwarf, two men, and a wizard to face and overcome terror by destroying the evil Ring of Power is not a spiritual quest, so the travelers are not pilgrims. And although they are all homeless during their long and perilous mission, they are not aimless drifters.

One of the nine adventurers is Aragorn, a mysterious, rugged, quiet, humble, yet heroic warrior whose aristocratic blood entitles him to be a king but whose virtuous character is hidden by his grubby exterior. It is to Aragorn that Tolkien refers when he says that

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

Aragorn lived a life of poverty, exile, and obscurity. Yet over many decades he devoted himself to service to others. He never forgot his royal origins, but he experienced a nobility of purpose and character, if not patrician rank. Homelessness and suffering humbled him, but also deepened him.

I’m not suggesting that warriors like Aragorn are the most courageous among us. In The Lord of the Rings the two bravest characters were arguably Frodo and Sam, ordinary hobbits with extraordinary determination and commitment to the cause of destroying the Ring of Power.

As a Sonoma County Wanderer, I enjoy hiking. As a Walker Errant in the tradition of Thoreau, I’m a spiritual pilgrim and seeker of nature. As human beings, we can aspire, like Aragorn, to be in service to a greater cause. What that cause is will vary for each of us. But if our purpose enables us to align with the circle of life, the ring of joy, then as with Aragorn we will be ennobled by our vision.

At the end of The Lord of the Rings, Aragorn fulfills his destiny and becomes king of Gondor. For the rest of us, becoming a king or queen is probably not in the cards. But as Aragorn learned the hard way, there is something greater than status: being true to our vision, our calling, our inner gold.

May 23, 2021

A week ago I met an extraordinary young woman, and I’ve been haunted by her ever since. I feel both inspired by her example and saddened by her life. I admire her courage, but I’d rather be dead than have to live a life like hers.

Helen (not her real name) lives with her family in northern California in a comfortable middle class home. In her early twenties, she has lived with a debilitating illness that has almost completely paralyzed her since birth. She can’t speak, so to communicate she uses a specially outfitted computer that features a female voice. She has to have a caregiver or family member at her bedside or close at hand 24/7.

I knew when I called to make my appointment with her that our interview would be challenging for both of us. My job as a field interviewer for a social science research company allows me to meet and interact with a wide variety of people, including people with various disabilities, but I’ve never had to interview someone who couldn’t speak. However, since she has slight movement in one of her hands, she’s able to manipulate a toggle stick that is connected to her computer, and is therefore able to select from various options on her screen. She can’t type, but can choose from a menu of pre-set sentences, words, or letters.

As I sat by her bedside and set up my laptop, I reminded her of the subject matter of our interview while I also studied her face for clues as to how I might interact with her. Her eyes moved back and forth from me to her computer screen, but except for almost imperceptible movements of her hand and her head, her body was frozen as she lay on her side under her bed covers. Her caregiver had positioned her reclining body so that Helen would be facing my direction. Her lips were open the entire time, exposing a mouthful of crooked teeth and causing her Latina caregiver to have to regularly suction the saliva from her drooling mouth and from the tube in her throat.

Yet though her face was expressionless, her “speech” was upbeat. When I asked how she was doing, she replied through her computer that she was “fabulous.” I didn’t believe her, but understood that she was probably being politely positive.

Her bedroom was decorated with cheerful photos, sayings, and artwork. There was a pinup photo on the wall of a handsome young man, probably a movie star or rock star with whom I am unfamiliar. It was clear that her family has surrounded her with loving and optimistic images in order to keep her spirits up.

Usually I hand my laptop to the respondent and it takes them about 45 minutes to answer the questions for the tobacco and health survey. But with Helen I had to read the questions aloud to her and record her answers, and with her physical limitations it took almost 3 hours to complete the interview. Obviously she has never smoked, so her answers saying no to the smoking questions were predictable. But what surprised me was her rosy response to some of the physical and mental health questions.

When I asked her to describe her physical health as either excellent, very good, good, fair, or poor, she chose excellent. Ditto for the question about her mental health. Again, I didn’t believe her, but dutifully recorded her answers. Yet she was relentlessly positive throughout the interview, causing me to wonder whether she was faking her cheeriness out of habit, denial, or social conditioning, or whether she really believes that her life is as hunky dory as she claims. I’m sure that she gets discouraged as we all do from time to time, but with me at least she kept up a good verbal front.

Her caregiver told me that Helen is intelligent, curious, and enjoys surfing the internet. I mentioned to them both that Helen reminded me of the renowned British physicist Stephen Hawking, who also had similar physical constraints. But while I projected a lively social facade, my “happy face” belied my pity for a fellow human being who is imprisoned in a body that is a permanent straightjacket.

I don’t know how Helen really feels about her handicap or about the quality of her life. She’s fortunate to have a loving, supportive family and a nice home. But it occurs to me that, in a way, she has no viable alternative to being so positive. What good would it do her to be depressed all or most of the time? She really has to be cheerful while living with her disease, because otherwise she would suffer and be miserable. And since she’s been trapped in that body since birth, she’s never known a better quality of life, though she can see that her family members and others are not as deprived of freedom as she is.

I would be terrified and claustrophobic to be so totally constrained, and would probably insist on escaping my confinement through assisted suicide. Then again, I’ve only known good health, and so if I were to suddenly experience paralysis at this late stage of my life it would be shocking in a way that Helen has had a lifetime to adjust to.

Even so, it must take a lot of psychological and emotional energy and strength to confront what anyone would acknowledge is a most difficult life. I admire Helen’s fortitude, and am grateful to her for showing me a fine example of a courageous spirit in spite of what must sometimes feel like a hopeless fate.

A few days after I met Helen I went hiking with friends at the spectacular Point Reyes National Seashore. It was a sunny but cold and extremely windy day, and a tiring hike. But I thought of Helen and what she is missing, and I thought of my mom who is also bedridden and unable to enjoy the natural beauty and freedom that I so often take for granted. And I thought how trivial my challenges are compared to those of Helen and my mom. My occasional complaints are ridiculous and petty compared to what so many other humans have to contend with on a daily basis. Of course, that realization won’t stop me from feeling frustration and self pity at times.

But Helen is a reminder to appreciate my good health and freedom while I have them. I can only hope that if I ever have to face insurmountable odds, I can do so with the grace and resolute cheerfulness that Helen displays.

May 10, 2021

This morning I heard a little story from a meditation teacher during a live video broadcast, a story that brought me good cheer. So I thought I’d share the positive vibes with y’all.

Once upon a time a parrot was flying over its forest home when it saw lightning strike a tree and start a wildfire. The fire quickly spread, trapping many animals. The parrot could easily fly away and escape the flames, but it looked down upon its terrified neighbors and knew that it had to take action.

The parrot flew to a nearby lake, immersed much of its body in shallow water, flew back over the flames, and shook the remaining water droplets over the raging conflagration. Back and forth it flew from the lake to the fire, each time releasing a few drops onto the roaring wildfire.

At one point Brahma (or Zeus, or God, or whomever you prefer) looked down upon the scene with wonder and curiosity, transformed himself into an eagle, and flew alongside the parrot as it carried out its mission. “Why are you engaged in such a hopeless task?” asked the eagle. The parrot answered, “It may be hopeless, but I have to do SOMETHING to help.” Moved by the parrot’s courage and compassion, the eagle/Brahma caused a mighty rainstorm to pour down upon the animals and the forest, extinguishing the flames.

The moral of the story is: Don’t worry about feeling powerless; just do the best you can. Our world may be burning – here in California, sometimes quite literally – but small efforts like picking up trash or offering a kind word to others can have unforeseen reverberations. Integrity matters. Kindness matters. Personal responsibility matters.

When I was a teenager I learned a Buddhist principle that I’ve never forgotten. Myo no Shoran means “the inconspicuous witness,” or “the invisible observer.” It suggests that there is an unseen world, represented in the above story by the eagle, where justice and righteousness prevail. This intangible realm is sometimes called the law of cause and effect, or the law of attraction. In our earthly existence on the physical plane it may seem that no one notices our suffering or our good deeds, but in the real world behind this one all thoughts, words, and deeds have consequences.

I want to trust in myo no shoran, in the benevolent consciousness that watches and records our behavior. And usually I do believe it. But sometimes my cynical side doubts that there is any payoff for virtuous intentions or ethical behavior. Is it wishful thinking to believe in the morality of the story of the parrot and the eagle? Maybe. But it feels rewarding to imagine it. And my intuition tells me that that story speaks to a fundamental truth about the nature of reality, even if I don’t always see evidence of that truth.

So I intend to follow the humorous advice of Mark Twain: “Always do right. This will gratify some people, and astonish the rest.”

April 23, 2021

I’m reluctant to be too quick to judge combat soldiers or police officers, because those are dangerous jobs and I don’t know how I’d behave in such stressful or precarious situations. But I do believe that American soldiers should not be awarded the nation’s highest military commendation for slaughtering women and children.

Yet that is what happened after the massacre of Lakota Sioux men, women, and children in 1890. Twenty soldiers of the U.S. Cavalry were granted the Medal of Honor for killing between 250 and 300 unarmed Lakota people at Wounded Knee, South Dakota.

But now there is a movement to get Congress to rescind those medals.

When I read about that political effort in today’s New York Times, my first reaction was negative: why are these activists focusing their attention upon a symbolic act when there are more serious and pressing social problems such as poverty and Covid on the nearby Lakota reservation? Yes, the mass murder at Wounded Knee Creek and the honoring of its perpetrators was a historical injustice, but that was long ago and there are more urgent challenges that need to be addressed today.

Then I remembered my visit to Wounded Knee 20 years ago.

It was an extra warm afternoon in late July, 2001 when I walked from the hilltop cemetery down to the meadow next to the creek. I was alone, wading through dry, knee-high summer grasses, with grasshoppers leaping away at my approach. The killing field was quiet, an occasional sunflower swaying in the hot summer breeze. My four companions would not come with me to the massacre site, preferring to wait near the cars for my return. They had explored the burial ground with me, but were vague about their reasons for declining to walk the short distance to the creek.

Two of my four fellow travelers were a Lakota couple, and the woman told me that the Lakota see the carnage as a sad event that happened generations ago, and that they don’t dwell upon it. Wounded Knee Creek is in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, and Pine Ridge is reputedly the poorest place in the U.S., with very high rates of unemployment and alcoholism. Yet when I suggested that the tribe create jobs by making the battlefield a tourist attraction, like Gettysburg or the Little Bighorn site of Custer’s Last Stand, she said that her people did not want to make money off of their dead. Her husband added that the Lakota are often unable to overcome the petty jealousies and factionalism that plague their tribe, and that a visitor center (trading post?) which once stood near the historic site was burned down by Indian radicals in 1973.

The couple did not object to my wandering around the site of the bloodbath, but neither did they wish to join me.

It was a cold December day shortly after Christmas in 1890 when tense Seventh Cavalry troops disarmed captive Lakota warriors. A shot rang out, and the tension turned into panic and chaos as the soldiers opened fire on the surrounded Indian camp. Exploding shells and bullets killed warriors and cavalrymen, women and children. Some soldiers went berserk, pursuing and murdering mothers and children who were cowering in the creekbed. When the shooting stopped, wounded troopers and Lakota alike were taken up the hill to a little church where clergy labored to save their lives.

Up to 300 Lakota were buried in a mass grave in the cemetery. There was no burial mound or marker showing the exact location of the bodies, though there was an old monument to the Lakota dead, along with more recent Lakota graves marked by crosses. In the meadow, site of the former Lakota campsite, there were no reminders of the fighting. No signs, no interpretive displays, no maps, no monuments. A rusty car had been pushed down the side of the creek bank. Discarded clothing was scattered nearby. Two trailers were on the edge of the flat. Wounded Knee Creek was peaceful, its waters sheltered by thick growths of leafy trees and bushes. Hard to imagine the barren winter ravine filled with blood, shrapnel, and corpses.

According to the Times, “In 1990 the descendants of Native Americans killed and injured during the Wounded Knee massacre received an apology from Congress after lawmakers approved a resolution expressing ‘deep regret’ for the Army’s actions…Representative Dusty Johnson, a South Dakota Republican, said ‘This was a sin of our nation, and the United States Congress has issued a formal apology; that doesn’t make the massacre go away, but it’s those kinds of efforts toward reconciliation that I think can help mend hearts and minds and give it the opportunity to move forward.'”

The Times quoted Marcella Lebeau, a 101 year old World War II nurse veteran and citizen of the Two Kettle Band of the Cheyenne River Sioux, who said, “I believe on our reservation, we have a pervasive sadness that exists here because of what happened at Wounded Knee, the massacre, and it has never been resolved and there has never been closure.”

I don’t condemn the nervous soldiers who panicked and started shooting indiscriminately. Maybe I would have done the same thing in that situation, although I can say with confidence that I would not have hunted down and butchered the fleeing women and children. But soldiers are warriors, and warriors sometimes go crazy in the heat of a fight. Even so, there’s no excuse for the murderous behavior of the Seventh Cavalry, and every reason to revoke the awards that those troops received.

We owe it to our fellow Americans, our Lakota brothers and sisters, to help them heal the sorrow they have felt since before and after 1890, by honoring their request to retract the misguided decorations granted to the killers of their ancestors. It may be just a symbolic gesture, but if it helps the Lakota people to heal, let’s do it.

April 10, 2021

Once upon a time I broke one of the Ten Commandments. And I had fun doing it, though later I had second thoughts about my sin.

I was reminded of my transgression this week as I finished reading Tolstoy’s novel Anna Karenina. Anna was a wealthy woman of the Russian aristocracy who allowed herself to be seduced by a rich cavalry officer, Count Vronsky. The problem was that she was already married, with an eight year old son, and Russian high society and the Russian Orthodox Church did not approve of extramarital affairs. Anna was unhappy with her marriage, and chose to abandon her husband and son in favor of the dashing Count Vronsky, thereby bringing shame and humiliation upon herself. Spoiler alert: I’m about to give away the ending of a 150 year old novel – Anna committed suicide by throwing herself under a moving train.

How did Anna’s choices remind me of my own behavior? Almost 40 years ago I met a very attractive, sexy woman who flirted extensively with me after a Buddhist meeting. Flattered, I went with the flow, only to have her disclose that she was married. Upon learning that fact, I at first declined to proceed with our intended illicit rendezvous. But she assured me that our having sex would be OK, because her husband was having lots of affairs, so why shouldn’t she have one? Persuaded by that logic, I invited her to my place, where we did not discuss Buddhist philosophy.

At some point during our brief affair she informed me that if her hot-tempered Latin American husband found out about our non-religious encounters, he would kill me. I thought it was worth the risk, but decided to break off our aerobic workouts after she started obsessively calling me every day at work. I knew I wasn’t that good in bed, so her neurotic and driven behavior caused me to conclude that our physical therapy sessions were not worth being shot by a jealous husband.

As a single man, was I wrong to have sex with a married woman? As an unhappily married woman, was Anna wrong to get it on with the Count?

I confess that I don’t feel guilty about what I did. Maybe I’m rationalizing sexual misconduct, but as my paramour said, her husband was cheating on her left and right, so their marriage was rocky well before I came along. Was anyone – the husband, the wife, or I – harmed by my naughty pleasure? I don’t think so. Yet she was not being honest with her husband, and I helped her in her dishonesty, so perhaps I did contribute to the deterioration of their marriage. Our brief adventure ended weirdly, causing me to reflect that maybe I had not handled the energy of the situation wisely.

Anna was young and foolish. I was young and foolish. Would I be susceptible to that kind of fantasy encounter now, in my late 60’s? I don’t know, but I doubt it. Yet I can’t rule it out. I’m not as horny as I was 40 years ago, and I’ve lost my youthful good looks, so women don’t come on to me anymore. For better or for worse, such temptations seem to be entirely behind me. But if I met the right woman, and she was married, what would I do? I hope that I don’t have to find out. It’s probably best to let sleeping dogs lie.

As to what Anna and I did in the past, I’ll let Jesus have the last word. As he said to those who asked him how he would judge an adulterous woman, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

March 27, 2021

Is Jesus currently a Chinese woman performing Irish stepdance?

Probably not. But Wikipedia reports that, according to the Church of Almighty God of China, Jesus Christ has returned to Earth and is presently living as a Chinese woman.

That may sound far-fetched to you, but maybe not more surprising than it was to me as I recently watched members of that church on YouTube brilliantly copying the style and choreography of the Irish dance show Riverdance. I never thought I’d see Chinese people attempting, let alone succeeding at, that Irish art form. Until 1994 no one outside Ireland and the Irish diaspora knew anything about Irish dance, which until then had been tradition-bound with limited cross-cultural appeal.

And then Riverdance, Lord of the Dance, and other Irish dance extravaganzas took the world by storm, becoming sensations in the U.S., Europe, and Asia, and big hits in China. Even so, it never occurred to me that the Chinese would want to actually do stepdance. I thought it would be too, well, Irish for them.

Stepdancing, when done professionally, is an exciting blend of precision, grace, elegance, athleticism, speed, drama, and thunderous percussion. The distinctive style emphasizes footwork, so the upper body is rigid and the arms are mostly kept at one’s sides. And I thought that the music – reels, jigs – might be too ethnic to appeal to anyone outside of St. Patrick’s Day. Besides, stepdance is a competitive sport among the Irish, and until Riverdance it had no international cachet.

But the Chinese have discovered what I learned years ago when I was in an amateur stepdance troupe: Irish hardshoe dance is very demanding but exhilarating to watch and to perform. Watch the three and a half minute video on YouTube: Riverdance Chinese style https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZy78vA4SAg . The dancing is excellent, though they’re stepping to Chinese and not Irish music, so it’s not as authentic as it could be. I saw Riverdance live in Dublin a couple years ago, and it was superb. But the slick Chinese show is almost as good as the original. The Chinese dancers are so robotically perfect that they make the Irish Riverdancers look relaxed and sexy by comparison. But both approaches are wonderful to behold. To see six minutes of the original Riverdance, click on this YouTube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cPBn2kbBqV0 . And if you just can’t get enough of the original, here’s another four and a half minutes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KfEkSW3K1tg

In researching the church and its cultural presentation for this essay, it’s not clear to me why these Chinese church members decided to put on an Irish dance show. Their three to four million-member church is banned in China because, as with the Falun Gong religious movement, the Communist Party considers it to be a dangerous cult. The church probably feels that the Communist Party is also a dangerous cult. In any case, their show is so professional and polished that they’re obviously not doing it just for fun; they’re trying to impress someone – but who? Is there a political or religious agenda to their dancing that is under the radar of the audience? One of the internet articles I read about the church, also known as Eastern Lightning, implied that the female incarnation of Christ is a member of their organization.

Check out the outstanding young stepdancers of the Church of the Almighty God of China. One of the women may be Jesus.

March 7, 2021

Is your skin color the most important part of your identity?

If you are a white nationalist on the far right of the political spectrum, or a progressive in the far left wing of the Democratic party, then the answer to that question is probably yes. For many conservatives and liberals, race is the determining factor in who they consider themselves to be. And the two main competing camps in this nation’s racial drama are white Americans and black Americans.

A recent opinion piece in the New York Times by Jorge Ramos, a Latino journalist and pro-immigration activist, blamed Donald Trump and anti-immigration white people for the racial tensions in this country.

But in yesterday’s Times a Korean-born American named Jay Caspian Kang wrote a more nuanced essay specifically acknowledging Asian/black conflicts and exploring the complexities of racial tribalism in this country. At one point he referred to racial politics as “a zero sum game in which everyone loses.”

In response to his essay, a reader identified as Charlotte from Atlanta wrote in an online comment:

The current orthodoxy on race in the U.S. pushes all of us to identify with, and be identified by others with, our race above all other identities. The races are then sorted into groups of oppressors (white people) and the hapless oppressed (everyone else). If you are an oppressor, you are supposed to commit your entire life to “the work,” i.e. expiating the collective guilt that you bear as a member of your race, regardless of your personal actions, choices, and beliefs. The oppressed, meanwhile, are treated as morally childlike victims – incapable of perpetrating racism themselves, not responsible for their own decisions or choices, and incapable of being successful or self sufficient without the intervention of others.

When an oppressed group contradicts this narrative (e.g. by academic or economic success, voting Republican, opposing affirmative action, etc), instead of taking a hard look at the narrative, we just move that group into the oppressor category. It’s happening to Asians and segments of the Latino community already.

Asking people to sacrifice for the common good is far more successful than asking them to sacrifice for someone else. By pushing a politics of polarization, we’ve destroyed that sense of common good and created precisely the zero sum game the author describes.

And what is the “common good” to which Charlotte refers? Public health, the economy, climate change, education, public safety, and housing are issues that affect people regardless of skin color. In my view, problems such as income inequality are less about race and more about class.

That’s not to deny that race, culture, and gender are significant factors in how people treat each other. Those factors are true not only in the U.S., but also in Africa, China, India, Japan, Vietnam, Europe, and everywhere else I’ve ever visited. So the attempts by progressives to blame racial prejudice on white institutions in the U.S. and Europe are simplistic at best. Racial and cultural frictions are an international problem, a challenge for the only race that really matters: the human race.

What we need here in the U.S. and around the world is not the left wing and right wing emphasis on racial identity, but a larger vision of our shared humanity. A common good based upon a more evolved consciousness of who we really are – interconnected souls – rather than the shallow, ego-based identification with our various racial, political, and religious tribes.

One reason I’m not too attached to my skin color, nationality, or gender is that I see those variables as being temporary. Because I believe in reincarnation, I thinks it’s likely that in future lifetimes I could well be, say, an Indonesian woman or a Nigerian man. And for all I know I may already have been an African American woman or a Mexican Indian man. These identities are fluid and temporary, from my Buddhist and metaphysical perspective, so labeling each other according to racial classifications is short sighted and ignorant.

Our true identity is not based upon the color of our skin, but rather is about the content of our character. We are not our race.

February 22, 2021

All spleen, no soul.

That is a phrase used recently in the New York Times to describe Twitter and other social media platforms that some people use to angrily express their political opinions. I’m not on Twitter, so I’m blissfully unaware of the nastiness that apparently is widespread on that and other social outlets. And I had to look up the meaning of spleen, which turns out to be an organ that the body uses to clean blood. But spleen is also used to suggest a bad temper or spite, as in venting one’s spleen about traffic.

The term spleen was used in an article about the recent death of Rush Limbaugh, a well known right wing radio personality known for his incendiary rants and denigrating language about people with whom he disagreed. The death of this famous demagogue has reportedly caused widespread celebration among his political opponents, and I must confess that I am one of those individuals who was pleased to hear of Limbaugh’s demise. We all vent our spleen from time to time, but Limbaugh was reputed to be vitriolic and spiteful on a daily basis.

Even so, the extensive cheering at the passing of the bombastic Mr. Limbaugh caused Times columnist Frank Bruni to entitle his latest piece, “Must We Dance on Rush Limbaugh’s Grave?” While acknowledging that Limbaugh was “so prone to cruel mockery, so proudly prejudiced, so recklessly divisive,” Bruni cautioned that “I think we should speak honestly of the dead, and in many cases that means speaking ill. But the pitch of that ill-speak needn’t be screechy. The manner of it needn’t be savage.” In other words, we shouldn’t do unto Rush as he did unto anyone he disagreed with.

Donald Trump was a big fan of Mr. Limbaugh, and it’s not hard to see why. Both traffic in abusive verbiage, and both promote malice, racial resentment, and conspiracy theories. Mr. Trump validated his friend’s brand of paranoia by awarding him with one of our nation’s highest honors, the Presidential Medal of Freedom. I can’t think of a less deserving recipient.

But Frank Bruni is right – just because we disagree with a Limbaugh or a Trump doesn’t mean that we should hate or insult them. And it isn’t really in our self interest to disparage others, since in doing so we allow ourselves to dwell in a negative frame of mind that can’t be good for our spleen or any other organ.

In the Buddhist tradition there is a concept called right speech, or wise speech. It means to pay attention to our choice of words, and then intentionally choose language that is wholesome, helpful, kind, generous, healing, and even inspiring. There is a certain morality implied in right speech, in that it implies distinctions between right and wrong, or setting higher standards for our words and our behavior. My friend Joseph adds that there is internal and external speech, so it’s important to have a positive and appreciative attitude in one’s own mind as well as in words spoken out loud. “Bless your food, and everything that comes to you,” Joseph advises.

I admit that my spleen enjoys being as opinionated as Mr. Limbaugh. But my soul prefers right speech.

February 5, 2021

Just when I thought I had masculinity all figured out, along comes the Chinese government to set me straight. Thank God for the Chinese Communist Party.

According to an article in today’s New York Times, “Government officials in China believe that boys are getting more effeminate and want to toughen them up. In the latest attempt to tackle what academics and news outlets call a ‘masculinity crisis,’ the Education Ministry has proposed emphasizing the ‘spirit of yang,’ or male attributes…to prevent the feminization of male youths.” A top official said that “the prevalence of female teachers and the popularity of ‘pretty boys’ in pop culture has made boys ‘weak, inferior, and timid.’ He also lamented the fact that boys no longer wanted to become war heroes.”

What a shame. Who’s going to invade India, Taiwan, or the South China Sea if Chinese boys don’t want to be war heroes?

At least good looking Chinese boys have an alternative to being soldiers: playing patriotic warriors onscreen. In another New York Times article dated August 8, 2017, the headline was “China’s Pretty Boys Find a New Gig: Propaganda Films.” The report describes such actors and other young male celebrities by saying, “Known in Chinese as xiao xian rao, ‘little fresh meat’ refers to Chinese teenage idols and boy band members, famous mostly for their manicured good looks and sculpted physiques.”

I’ve been thinking lately about masculine and feminine qualities because I’m currently half way through War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy’s epic historical novel about Napoleon’s invasion of Russia. In the book, the aristocratic young men are handsome and dashing, and the upper class young women are beautiful and “blooming.” I don’t mind the gender stereotypes; after all, the book was written over 150 years ago. And not all of the men want to be war heroes, though many of them do desire that glory, and not all the women are scheming to find a rich husband, though most of them are.

I’m perfectly willing to accept that there are male tendencies and female tendencies, though to avoid excessive sniping I’ll leave it to the reader to decide which are typical male and female behaviors and attitudes. I do believe that people should be free to dress and act in whatever ways feel right for them, rather than having to conform to preconceived notions of what is appropriate for their gender.

Although I don’t remember if I ever wanted to be a war hero (I probably did), I do know that starting at about age six I wanted to be a champion of some sort. I was first inspired by the TV cartoon character Mighty Mouse, who rescued fair maidens and defeated bad guys. Ever since then I’ve wanted to be confident, strong, courageous, and noble in spirit. Those are qualities that I’ve always associated with manhood, though now I would also add kindness, compassion, and wisdom to my idea of a paragon of positive masculinity.

Napoleon was a military genius and a social reformer, but he was also a tyrant and mass killer of men, so I would have to cite him as an example of toxic masculinity.

Is it possible to be both beautiful and masculine? I would say definitely yes. The other night I watched Risky Business again, and in it a young Tom Cruise does a very sexy dance alone wearing just an unbuttoned shirt, jockey shorts, and socks. His character is an uninhibited stud acting out his fantasy of being a rock star, and if his exuberant strutting isn’t masculine, I don’t know what is. He may be a pretty boy, but his swaggering cock-of-the-walk explosive dance is the antithesis of being “weak, inferior, and timid.”

Maybe the Communist Party should use Risky Business as a recruiting film for the Chinese army. It’s definitely got that yang thang.

January 21, 2021

Sanity, grace, and civility have returned to the White House. It is not yet clear whether these virtues have returned to our democracy or our citizens.

Like most Americans and people around the world, I was relieved yesterday to see the treasonous and disgraced former president depart from Washington. And I was gratified to watch the televised inauguration as a calm, dignified, and humble Joe Biden became our 46th president.

I enjoyed the beautiful shots of our sunny nation’s capital: the stately Capitol building; the spacious outdoor National Mall and its Smithsonian museums; the simple and lofty Washington Monument; the inspiring Lincoln Memorial; the peaceful Reflecting Pool; the colonnaded Supreme Court; the beautiful Library of Congress; and the historic and elegant White House.

And I was moved by the continuity of the civic rituals of our peaceful transfer of power: the presence of former Presidents Clinton, Bush, and Obama with their First Ladies; Supreme Court justices and members of Congress from both political parties; the administering of the oath of office; the President’s inaugural address; the singing of the national anthem; the recitation of a lovely poem by a youth poet laureate; the presidential review of the military marching bands.

But the very visible presence of 20,000 National Guard troops was a reminder of the physical assault upon the Capitol building two weeks ago by Trump thugs seeking to overthrow our democracy and install Donald Trump as an authoritarian dictator. President Biden acknowledged this near-catastrophe in his inaugural speech when he said “Democracy is fragile.” In other words, we are not out of the woods yet. Our nation and our democracy remain under threat from domestic terrorists fueled by lies and misinformation from social media, some “news” media outlets, paranoid conspiracy theorists, and self serving Republican politicians.

Joe Biden made it obvious in his inaugural address, as he has throughout his long political career, that he is a man of honesty, decency, and empathy who intends to restore a sense of morality to the country while confronting the urgent issues of the pandemic, climate change, a battered economy, increasing financial inequality, and racial tensions. Yet although he is assuming the lofty position of the most powerful office in the world, he gives the repeated impression that, unlike his predecessor, his presidency will not be about him, but will instead be about us: we, the people.

And who are “we,” anyway?

For some of our fellow citizens, mostly Republicans, to be American means to be white and Christian (even though very few of them actually believe in or follow the teachings of Jesus). Jews, blacks, and people of Asian or Hispanic descent may be citizens, according to this view, but they are sometimes considered, unconsciously or otherwise, to be second class citizens. And as recently as the 1960’s, Catholics were viewed with suspicion by many WASPs (White Anglo Saxon Protestants) because it was feared that they would be more loyal to the Pope than to their country. The Irish in America were long distrusted because of their Catholic religion. So in 1960 when the Irish Catholic John F. Kennedy ran for president, many people voted against him because they didn’t accept him as one of “us” (WASPs). Fortunately for JFK he was young, handsome, Harvard educated, and rich, so he was able to overcome enough prejudice to barely win the election. Decades later, Irish and Catholics are considered part of “us,” so now we have our second Irish Catholic president in Joe Biden (Ronald Reagan was Irish but not Catholic). Progress is slow but steady in these United States.

Yet where should we draw the line as to the question of who is American and who isn’t? Are illegal immigrants Americans just because they now live here? For Joe Biden, apparently the answer to that second question is yes. He wants to provide amnesty for the estimated 11 million people who have come here without permission. And for humanitarian reasons he wants to open our borders to increased legal immigration from tens of thousands, probably tens of millions, of poor people who want a better life than they currently have in Mexico, Central America, Africa, the Middle East, or Asia.

Is it the moral responsibility of the American government and people to accept and provide for an endless stream of migrants? If so, how many millions should we accept, or should there be no limit? I believe that President Biden has an obligation to be up front with us as to how many millions of poor people he is willing to bring into this country, and how he will take care of them.

For me the question is not whether we should assist people in need; of course we should. The question is how can we do so wisely. I am not in favor of increasing the population of the United States; in my view, we have too many people already. From 200 million Americans in 1967 to 330 million today, that is a rapid population increase driven almost entirely by immigration, leading to a dramatic demographic change that is socially and politically destabilizing and environmentally destructive.

But if we are to aid our fellow human beings, how do we do so without overburdening our schools, health care systems, welfare agencies, freeways, criminal justice systems, and housing?

The answer may lie in helping people to stay where they are through assistance from NGO’s (Non Governmental Organizations) to help with security issues, food distribution, education, and family planning/birth control. The question of how to alleviate world poverty, corruption, and migration is beyond the scope of this essay, but it does raise the issue of identity: are Americans simply citizens of the United States, or world citizens with a responsibility to help all of humanity? Who should we include in “us” in the U.S. – the entire human race?

Is President Biden attempting to live up to the ideal written on the Statue of Liberty?: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Or should he try to take care of American poor first?

I appreciate President Biden’s generosity of spirit in wanting to welcome millions of legal and illegal immigrants to our country. But while I do not support these proposals, I do support his overall agenda and his mission to preserve and protect this democracy for future generations. I hope he can heal our divided nation, and for that reason I wish him a long and healthy life and a successful four or eight year term in the White House. We the people, all of us everywhere, need him to succeed.