Everything's gone quiet now

Everything's gone quiet now.
Quiet now.
I'm hardly here at all.


Fatigue.

I've been reflecting on how I feel fatigue. Obligations pulling, not at my sleeves but on my arms and legs and head -- pulling hard: the force of a thick Pete Townsend windmill chord blasting me back. Melancholy is the tone and timbre of what I hear inside of me, melancholy reverberating in the air I'm moving through. This experience is new and it is familiar at the same time. Both aspects have my interest, and my interest is different from the past. Seeing, just seeing this, has something importantly new about it.

What does it mean when you promise someone
That no matter how hard or whatever may come?

Pulling me. Pulling me out, rip tide. How is it to be pulled out... I've wondered since I first was warned, to be helpless, past the point of no return, but you can see the shore and the family and friends on the beach, and that distance is too far to hear your cries and will they see your waving hands, and the water wall pulls you along, flotsam, as it recedes from the life you know? I've had brushes, I've been rescued. I know the flavor but not the conclusion.

Nature doesn't know if you are a child or an executive with a billion dollar multinational, it just takes you where it is going, you're just more stuff.

So, yeah. This is my question. The Finn Brothers got it, or had it, or, God bless them, are there. What does it mean when you promise someone that no matter how hard or whatever may come? What does that mean?

What does it mean when you belong to someone
When you're born with a name, when you carry it on?
To be, or... eh ... What are my options again?

I've faced the most blistering, hardcore, blunt tragedy of my life so far. I had no choice it seemed. I stepped on, one day at a time. What I didn't see is that each day is the accumulation of all the days. What happened with Kim was a climax of all the tragedies, and all the loves, of my life. And all the loves of my life are here still, even Kim. I am here. And everyone I love is here, too.

It means that I won't give in, won't give in, won't give in.
Neil and Tim know about this. Was it because of their Aunt who threw herself into the hole in the river? Was it a friend, was it Paul, or a lover, or everyone they love? They know this fatigue. But more, they know more.

A chance is made, a chance is lost, I carry myself to the edge of the earth.
I've been faced again with the chaos, eye to eye. A friend has gone over the edge, some edge, I'm not a doctor, I can't say. But there it was again, in front of me, in my office as I swiveled my chair around. The eyes going googly, the slurred and incoherent speech, the consciousness receding deep within some internal rip tide.

All the feelings rushed through me, all of the memories: my father, my mother, my friends, my self, my wife, my son, my sister, my life. The memories were direct-injected hormone messages to every muscle. The little girl in Poltergeist, "...no more...", spoke for me, for us.

'Cause everyone I love is here
All at once.
And so this message's content is fatigue. All the obligations, all the doubts about making someone else unhappy, all the stress of giving them what they want while ignoring the others, all the devils in my mind. Pulling me down. It is not obligation, it is always a choice. I've chosen to give myself away each time. I've let the talk go on too long, I've ignored my long-term health for your short-term attention. If I could be here for you, if I could hear the question right and give the right turn to the wheel, we could be free, I could be me. What a fool, how foolish it is to be passing through samsara!

Yet, the most important message of this fatigue: I cannot leave this world. My fatigue is the message of my nature crying out at the conflict. I must stop making myself through what I imagine of you. I cannot slip away, too, snuf it out and think that is freedom. See? Everyone I love -- ever -- is here, now, always has been and will always be only here. I must not go, must not let it go.

The defeat of the soul is an illusion of the self. The person we are is never defeated in nature, we go on. This is adult education: the only reason for human beings is for human beings to learn just this. It is all good, but it is not all comfortable.

Whatever we mean when we say "God, please help us all."

It means that I won't give in, won't give in, won't give in
'Cause everyone I love is here
Say it once, just say it, and disappear.
Oh! There's nothing wrong with you, at all. You are perfect. You are one of my Khanti teachers, you're here to help me cross over the stream. Don't let me be so arrogant and impatient and callous and insensitive. Oh, oh, this is about Khanti, isn't it? If it's just "Well, I'll put up with it", then I'm just making myself into an old, supercilious grump. A patronizing old grump who puts up with things.

...Then the real Khanti is to go to that point in the mind, accepting, "I feel upset, I feel hurt, it feels like this, I feel disappointed, I feel this." And going to that point, to the very tip of that point, of not wanting the unpleasant, the disagreeable, disappointing, the humiliating, the degrading, the unlovely.

And then, What are you here for? You're here for crossing over, not for avoiding and not for accumulating. And then the mind, instead of the movement to wriggle out, the mind throws itself open. The mind becomes very expansive and its only characteristic is a sense of space.

And then you can actually look into that, explore that sense of the mind when the volition relaxes. You can explore that sphere, there can be the feeling out and the dwelling in that sphere of cessation. Recognizing the way one should respect the noble tyrant, the implacable foe. The way one should respect the hungry mosquito. The way one should respect the exasperating situation.

Thank you. When I fulfill my paramitas, you, out of gratitude, I will carry you across.

This is the paramata of it, when one attends to that sphere of anattā, of no-self.

My friendships will change now. I cannot go back. I cannot be more than I am. I cannot jump over myself. This is love, not attachment. This is so hard, like giving it all up, like giving you up. But attachment is not love, it is self as if through you. Love is what is, always, just this, beneath and above and around and throughout.

'Cause everyone I love is here
Say it once, just say it, and disappear.

For Peter's sake, tell me where we would be without you!?! Even if time is just a flicker of light, and we all have to die alone, I won't give in. You see, I love you.



All the trash and the treasure,
All the pain and the pleasure.
Everything's gone quiet now.
Quiet now.
I'm hardly here at all.

Finn Brothers, featuring Paul Hester

Clunker No. 2

This video has my boy, Grayson, as Clunker No. 2 in his acting debut (moonlighting from his graphic designer job)...

Cash for Small Clunkers!

Genuine Scooter Company, and it's official safety director, Dr. Wilhelm Junkers, today announced a national "CASH FOR SMALL CLUNKERS" program. Dr. Junkers, together with participating GENUINE SCOOTER DEALERS, will offer a $300 CASH CREDIT towards any GENUINE SCOOTER PRODUCT in exchange for any "titled" 2 wheeler that can be rolled or driven in to it's dealership. The video, shot by rank amatuers in Chicago, is a product of "BUSH LEAGUE PRODUCTIONS" here in the windy city. "This will be a limited offer with limited supplies", said company president Philip McCaleb.

The Mighty Bug

Lazy old bug. What do we like about cats, anyway? They don't do tricks, don't fetch the paper or slippers or nothing. Don't keep strangers at bay. Can't walk 'em on a leash, shesh. Cats. This lazy old bug, what do ya do?

Kneeling on the road to Graceland

(No intended message, I just like this photo of our late Kim)

Darshan
by David Sylvian

Two birds One stone One chance Is thrown Don't make Mistakes

Two thieves Strung up One knife One cut Two doors One shut

One light One way One road To take We stand And wait

From cool
To warm

These songs stuck in my mind, these references to spiritual peaks and valleys, lyric poetry, photographic magic, all seem strong adornments to the truth in their message. I have a more humble view this morning, despite the plush push of those configurations. All the messages have a plain surface, too, and I am there too. I can only ever be in all these places, and it is only ever other than that. Kneeling on the road to Graceland. O, to be free, to be free. I can hardly see in front of me.

Les Paul

With your 4 by 4
You tuned up
And found your key
You played, man you played
The world, like ringing a bell

Thank you
for my '57 Gold Top
and the wonderful
music in my life
on your guitars

May you be released

Les Paul
1915-2009

The Serendipity Diet

Introducing
Ajahn Sucitto's
Serendipity Diet

The Serendipity Diet is about nutritious delights accidentally discovered right in front of you, especially while looking for something else entirely unrelated. Foregoing the search after the things we crave and avoiding the rest, this diet is based on letting go and discovering what's in the pantry right now. This nutritious and richly flavorful diet is free of metabolic opinions and is liberally seasoned with absolute honesty. With the Serendipity Diet you depend on what is unknown and inconceivable to sustain you.

The lightness of The Serendipity Diet contrasts with the heavy personal grasping of The Ultimate Truth Diet, grasping onto feelings or imaginings, wishes, desires, to be, to not be, perceptions, truth, liberation, freedom, emptiness, oneness, knowingness. Whatever the flavor of the month is. You know the way that we kind of find ourselves forming around these, and then really wanting to have them, be them, realize them, discover them. Then there's the frustrating bit, where they don't quite get it: Ultimate Truth is just the other side of this particular annoying, nagging bit of me that's getting in the way of me and ultimate freedom and flavor, out there, peaceful, realized, savory, I won't have any struggle with this stuff anymore.

Because you begin to recognize as you contemplate grasping on your palate, grasping only occurs because of some state imagined or felt. So even the imagined states are a kind of state, aren't they? An indefinable state. You can grasp onto tastes and flavors as that, and grasp onto moods and feelings as that. The really, really nasty stuff is the stuff you can't even see. You see, the stuff you can see you can grasp, tastes and flavors, like 'yeah, so what, yeah, well enough of that' or 'that was nice but so...'. So imagining something like Ultimate Truth, because you never get it, it MUST be good. It's like the donut you don't eat is always the best one, isn't it? You know, out there somewhere is the Ultimate Donut. So this wasn't it, that wasn't it, but, really the one you see in the advertisements, the glistening, creamy, stuffed full of whatever it is, beautifully brown with chocolate, 'Oh wow to eat that, fantastic!' That would be it. And you eat it, it's just another donut.

Out there in virtual reality you can still carry all this wonderful imagined meaning, where there is this craving for ultimate flavor of some sort or another. Ultimate experience of some sort. So when you don't get it, it must be because you can't actually get a hold of it, then something in you still dreams it, maybe you don't even think it, but something in you still wishes, '...one day...' the veils will be drawn, the clouds will break, '...yeah...' Which is profound enough intuition, but the point is that as long as one is caught in that kitchen we tend to look over the top of this irritating bit that's getting in the way. Really, it is not a 'what' kind of diet, we don't say 'what it is' we just tell you 'how'. So it's how to handle this, how to be with this, how to focus on that, eventually it's 'how does grasping work'.

This is really what we come to, maybe this is the way it's supposed to be, to experience things like this. This is what happens to people. So if we're actually being absolutely honest, then you can notice this is what it comes to in its various forms. And I'd recommend, rather than searching for ultimate truth, just being absolutely honest.

Recipes follow. Bon Appétit

Easy Chuckles, with Leaps of Heart
à la Chef Shannon

I N G R E D I E N T S

1 bit lateness (about a minute)
1 small daughter, arriving
1/2 block of sidewalk
3/4 school bus of children, a driver, stirred
1/4 block of road, bumpy
5 seconds of clear blue sky

I N S T R U C T I O N S
Yesterday, as I was walking to the bus stop to greet Lauren, I was running a bit late. I am usually there waiting. As I rounded the corner I saw the bus driving by. I caught a glimpse as it passed, and I chuckled when I saw the driver, bobbing up and down along the bumpy road. My heart leaped as I heard the hyperactive, delightful giggles; squeals and shouts of all the tiny, innocent, contented little children emanating from the open bus windows. It was the best 5 seconds I've had all month.

Simply delicious.

Spiritual Pizza, with Nowness
Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

I N G R E D I E N T S

99 cups, different experiences, unjumbled
1 gallon, invaders and dictators, all kinds
1 cup, nowness, personally experienced
1 reality, very much there.

I N S T R U C T I O N S
People have different experiences of reality, which cannot be jumbled together. Invaders and dictators of all kinds have tried to make others have their experience, to make a big concoction of minds controlled by one person. But that is impossible. Everyone who has tried to make that kind of spiritual pizza has failed. So you have to accept that your experience is personal. The personal experience of nowness is very much there and very obviously there. You cannot even throw it away!

Recipe from "The Four Foundations of Mindfulness," in THE SANITY WE ARE BORN WITH: A Buddhist Approach to Psychology and Pizza Pie, page 37.

Dog, skin on
Master Zhaozhou

P R E P A R A T I O N
A gourd floating on the water—push it down and it turns: a jewel in the sunlight—it has no definite shape. It cannot be attained by mindlessness, nor known by mindfulness. Immeasurably great people are turned about in the stream of words—is there anyone who can escape?

I N G R E D I E N T S

A Monk asked Zhaozhou, "Does a dog have a Buddha-nature or not?"
Zhaozhou said, "Yes."
The monk said, "Since it has, why is it then in this skin bag?"
Zhaozhou said, "Because he knows yet deliberately transgresses."
Another monk asked Zhaozhou, "Does a dog have a Buddha-nature or not?"
Zhaozhou said, "No."
The monk said, "All sentient beings have Buddha-nature — why does a dog have none, then?"
Zhaozhou said, "Because he still has impulsive consciousness."

I N S T R U C T I O N S
If you say a dog's Buddha-nature surely exists, afterwards he said 'no'—if it surely does not exist, still previously he said 'yes.' And if you say that to say 'yes' or 'no' is just a temporary response spoken according to the situation, in each there is some reason. That is why it is said that someone with clear eyes has no nest.

The point of this monk's question was to broaden his perspective and learning; he didn't base it on his own fundamental endowment. Zhaozhou said 'yes', using poison to get rid of poison, using sickness to cure sickness.

This monk also said, "Since it has, why is it then in this skin bag?" He didn't realize he himself had been born in the belly of a dog. Zhaozhou strikes twice; a fleeting opportunity is hard to catch.

This monk might have thought that he was judging the result on the basis of the cause, but if you understand in this way, you cannot even be the slave of a professor.

Later a monk asked this again, whereat Zhaozhou said 'no'. He was one who had attained—whether he said 'yes' or 'no' he had a way out. This monk judged the fundamental way on the basis of words: "All beings have Buddha-nature; why doesn't a dog have it?" Thus challenged, I dare say that even the hand that can move the North Star has no way to turn around, but Zhaozhou answered sincerely with this: "Because he still has impulsive consciousness." Now you tell me—did this monk have blood under his skin after all? Tiantong cannot avoid putting more moxa to burn on the scar on the red flesh:

V E R S E
A dog's Buddha-nature exists, a dog's Buddha-nature does not exist;
A straight hook basically seeks fish who turn away from life.
Chasing the air, pursuing fragrance, cloud and water travelers—
In noisy confusion they make excuses and explanations.
Making an even presentation, he throws the shop wide open;
Don't blame him for not being careful in the beginning—
Pointing out the flaw, he takes away the jewel;
The king of Chin didn't know Lian Xiangru.

C O M M E N T A R Y
"A dog's Buddha-nature exists, a dog's Buddha-nature does not exist"—the two parts are not the same; he brings them out together, just like Xuedou's "One has many kinds, two have no duality." Tiantong wants to meet with Zhaozhou, that's why he versifies in this way. Yingtian Zhen said, "A straight harpoon catches ferocious dragons, a curved hook catches clams."

Afterwards, "chasing the air, pursuing fragrance," like hunting dogs they make excuses and explanations in noisy confusion. What juice is there in a dry bone?

Recipe from "Book of Serenity; One Hundred Zen Dialogues", translated by Thomas Cleary

Fuddruckers: what a difference a day can make

Noise, oldies loud. Bare cement floors don't help. Foreign accents and language as I walk in. 10 at table. Huge plate of fixin's for burgers. Old guys in shorts with legs you don't want to look at. Young homely girl. Dark around eyes, pudgy. Milk shake. Only looks down, wears purse. She and parents eat in silence. So sad, so isolated. Food and shake is stimulating while the rest is lonely torture. Late middle aged man with elderly mother, somehow I know he's single. The plastic vibrator indicates my order is ready. My order is ready. Hey, my order is ready. Food spicy without flavor. Little girl screams as loud as possible. Drowns out the noise and loud oldies. Dude with babe wife and their little girl. Hot pants are back. This place is some kind of racket. And we're all rejects, nobody normal here. Man that was depressing.
--------------------------
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld

Charlie Haden's Birthday at Yoshi's

Just got back from Yoshi's San Francisco. The Charlie Haden Quartet West really hit the spot.

I've been itching to go to Yoshi's SF and was pleased when Charlie Haden's band came up at the venue. A very nice late evening gig for me. I had dinner at nopa on Divisidero, met Kelly and Noah; the Pork Chop was out of this world (Noah and others having the Pork Chop at the community table agreed). Good conversation, slipped out and just made my Hayes bus in time, transfered at Fillmore. Easy access to Yoshi's from Muni, got my ticket and met the most lovely people in line. Tracy was holding the place for her boyfriend and two other friends, and she was easy-peasy comfortable talking, very attractive and quite charming. They are musicians, including their Guatamalan friend, and they were warm and welcoming to me. I sat with some devoted fans in the back, but the back is nearly up front. Reminds me of the size of the Roxy in Hollywood, only cleaner, friendlier, urbain and civilized.

And the music was delightful, just right. Call me satisfied. I'm so glad I spotted this show. I've loved Charlie Haden from back in the '70s when I first heard his Liberation Music Orchestra with Carla Bley. Tonight's Quartet West players were each fantastic (check out the embedded YouTube performance), and together brought tears to my eyes for one slow, sad tune. Charlie was charming, sharing a personal story of meeting and coming to work with Ornette Coleman and his Quartet. The audience was warm and attentive. I couldn't stop tapping my feet.

Thanks everybody, and Happy Birthday, Charlie!

Sea Song

Robert Wyatt and Annie Whitehead's Soup Song play the "Sea Song", originally from Robert's album "Rock Bottom". Oh dear, was that 1973 or 1974? Just after he broke his back, yes. Brings back fond memories of dreaming of my Alifib and finally... well, Sea Song says it all.

This one's for you, babe.

The Sinking Spell

The Sinking Spell
by Edward Gorey*

O look, there's something way up high:
A creature floating in the sky.

It is not merely sitting there,
But falling slowly through the air.

The clouds grew pink and gold: its knees
Were level with the evening trees.

Morose, inflexible, aloof.
It hovered just above the roof.

It's gone right through, and come to rest
On great grand-uncle Ogdred's chest.

It settled further in the night,
And gave the maid an awful fright.

Head first, without a look or word,
It's left the fourth floor for the third.

The weeks went by: it made its way
A little lower every day.

Each time one thought it might have stopped
One found, however, it had dropped.

One wonders just what can be meant
By this implacable descent.

It did not linger, after all,
Forever in the upstairs hall.

It found the drawing room in turn,
And slipped inside the Chinese urn.

It now declines in fretful curves
Among the pickles and preserves.

It's gone beneath the cellar floor:
We shall not see it any more.

*Used without permission or recommendation or expectation of positive result.

The bread is back

I thought I had mentioned this in a previous post but Google says no. A strange pattern of happenings the month before Kim died was the appearance of bread loaves on our lawn. We live on the corner with a somewhat busy road, which connects to a neighborhood shopping center, that has all kinds of traffic -- truck, car, bike, foot. Back then (March) I began to notice a loaf of bread every few days, at least once a week, in our yard by the busy road, and then I began to notice loaves here and there in the road, down the road, by the freeway, and beyond. Kim and I imagined a wild bread truck driver careening around the corners, high-tailing it to their next early-morning stop, bread loaves flying out the back. After Kim passed away they stopped appearing, and so did the wild turkeys, the hawks, butterfly storms, and so on.


I saw a hawk yesterday fly into a row of small trees by the freeway offramp not far from my home, and this always now invokes an ominous spectre. The bread is back. Will other signs appear too? Or is it a "Sometimes a loaf of bread is just a loaf of bread" situation? Watch your step please.

Note the water saving feature of my sprinkler system.