When it comes to ants, I feel like Vishnu: "I am death, destroyer of worlds." We suffer from periodic invasions of ants in the house, usually in the bathroom or kitchen, and when they decide to visit, they bring the whole family, usually thousands. So we stomp, spray, erect barriers of essential oils, until finally it's too much and we lay down huge puddles of Terro for them to take back to the colony. And then we clean up all the bodies, which is when the karmic guilt starts to set in. To these tiny, industrious creatures, I'm no less a monster than Hitler. I may kill them with remorse, but it doesn't keep the Raid can under the sink, if you know what I mean.

I've been thinking about this partly because the colony under the house has been sending up scouts again now that the rain is over, but also because I'm in an interesting quandary about compassion in general and how far I'm willing to extend it. A high school kid came to the door tonight, trying to get me to buy the newspaper or donate to help him go to college. He rattled off the kind of history I would have expected stereotypically (poor kid, mom working hard, deadbeat dad), and after a few minutes of listening to him try to talk me into it I told him "No thanks" for the third or fourth time and shut the door in his face.

So where is my sense of compassion in a moment like this? In one way of looking at it, every such occasion is an opportunity to help, and if I really believe in helping people who are trying to better themselves (and I like to think I do, something shadowy in a Jungian sense there maybe), then I should theoretically be willing to make a donation. And yet I didn't—partly from annoyance, partly from suspicion that it was a scam, and partly from a general rule of not giving out money at my front door. So is it an opportunity wasted, or a chance to exercise appropriate discretion? I think the answer is ultimately yes to both questions, so I'm left with a situation that regardless of my response leaves me feeling dissatisfied with it. A weird way to spend the night.

* Ozymandias, King of Ants

Posted at 12:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Why I'm here now: Trevor Romain – Now Is The Time (Reprise). I want to have this experience without regrets if at all possible, knowing that I enjoyed every minute I could with my mom, that I gave her as much care as I was able, and that I helped her to let go when it was time. It's a weird kind of limbo we're all sitting in at the moment; it has some semblance of normalcy, but the shadow is always there too, and it moves and is preparing on its own schedule, invisible to us.

I watch her sleeping and she seems a little smaller every day, but still full of spirit, and I know it will be a different feeling at whatever point the shadow moves in and the kind of communication we've always shared becomes impossible. That will be a new kind of grief, as will her passing, and the rest of my life afterward. Always a new wave coming in to ride—some will take me to shore and some will leave me swamped and breathless until I see light and swim for the surface. But there are lots of us bobbing around in the ocean; we journey together and pull each other out when strength falters, and that is a great comfort.

Posted at 02:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I could go on about this topic for a long time, how much the little kindnesses especially can have a huge effect in people's lives. But then someone else goes ahead and says it so much better. If there's one thing I've learned as a human so far, it's to try and make the time for small, thoughful gestures rather than saving up for the big ones. They're usually much more meaningful, and looking for opportunities to make them is a great way to learn how to listen to other people.

Posted at 01:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This article captures so much of how I feel about religion in our country right now. I stopped being a practicing Christian a long time ago, although of course being raised in that faith has strongly informed the way I look at religion and the world, for better and worse. The fact that folks like the author, who have much more impeccable Christian credentials than I do (for those that it matters to), are beginning to feel their faith taken hostage by fundamentalists is cause for both hope and sadness.

I think the whole question of faith in politics and policy hinges on her question:

If someone—like me—who has worshiped as a Christian for more than 50 years suddenly feels afraid of the extremes of that religion—what must it be like for those of different beliefs, or of unbelief?

There is a reason that the architects of this country, Christians though they may have been, wrote the First Amendment into law. While speculation about exactly what they meant to accomplish with our various founding documents is exactly that, it seems clear that a common thread through all of them is a recognition that government is a human endeavor and therefore subject to error. So, we have various systems of checks and balances, we have the Bill of Rights and all of the court cases that have built upon it, and we have the power as citizens (at least nominally) to vote the ruling class out if we don't like them. Theocracy, as government or national culture, leaves all of this aside for trust in the motives of self-declared godly people and their direct line to their god.

The line between the fundamentalists we fear and the ones we as a nation are becoming is getting thinner by the second.

Posted at 01:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In case you've ever wondered whether a smile can really make a difference.

Posted at 10:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Great interview with Sam Keen about his philosophy of love and sex and culture's encroachment on both. One nugget:

That shows one of the deep kinds of sicknesses of our society—that we have so sexualized touch…It's become almost taboo for us to touch people when we don't have sexual intentions. I mean teachers can't touch kids anymore!

And we're creatures of touch!…We were created within a body and nurtured by a body. Most of our experiences of ecstasy have to do with touch. So, what kind of civilization are we creating in which we are literally "out of touch?"

I've learned a lot about how I want to live my life from Keen's books, particularly Learning to Fly, about his decision at age 62 to learn the flying trapeze. As someone who tends toward overcaution & worry, I found his willingness to follow and work toward his dream inspiring. So today's wish is that we all come to knowledge of what our dreams are, and then have the courage and determination to make them happen.

Posted at 02:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Interesting article on the paradox inherent in trying to be an American Buddhist, with the injunctions against greed and attachment to material goods on the one hand, and the constant pressure to acquire in the culture on the other. It's something I often wrestle with in my own practice, the question of how much is enough and how far over that line I might be. The article also looks at the issue through the prism of the many businesses run by Buddhist monasteries and retreat centers. Definitely a print-and-reread one for me, anyway. [via Alt-log, Dec. 10 entry]

Posted at 04:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I know it's officially a day late, but I really was too full to even think last night. So without further ado, what I'm thankful for this year:

• My wonderful family, and all the new members it has since September
• Friends near and far, who bring so much joy, silliness, and depth to my life
• A job that lets me work from anywhere
• Music in all its forms, providing the soundtrack to my existence
• The Buddha and all the teachers of his path, for helping me find the middle way
• The Universe, for kicking my butt in all the right ways this year
• The Deb, who renews my faith in the healing power of love every day

There's lots more if I wanted to itemize, but that hits all the big ones. I am so blessed, and I hope to make every moment I have worthy of everything I've been given. Happy Thanksgiving!

Posted at 05:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)