Time Makes Liars of Us All

I began my very first post to Faithbook and then to this blog with the following words:

I am not a Buddhist. I've never told anyone that I am a Buddhist and have in fact denied the title on more than one occasion. Even though I have been circling around the stupa for the last ten years, I have never made any formal or official commitment to the Buddha sāsana. I've never sown a rakusu or received a "dharma name." I am, as of this moment, a freelance wanderer through the six realms of samsara.

Two years later and most of these things are no longer true. I have sewn a rakusu for my lay ordination (Bodhisattva vow) ceremony and I have been given a dharma name. I am now a proud member of a Soto Zen community (although I have problems with Soto's excessive emphasis on "just sitting"). According to my neatly folded lineage chart, I hold the 81st place on a list that goes through Rev. Shoken Winecoff, Dainin Katagiri Roshi, Dogen Zenji, Bodhidharma, Nagarjuna, Ananda, Shariputra and finally old Shakya himself. (I will leave the problemitization of Zen lineage claims to Schlutter, McRae and Heine et all).

Last night, for the first time in years I have been directly asked what my religion was and I said Buddhist. I realized that this is much simpler than saying, "well I was raised a Christian and I still appreciate many of the teachings of Christ, but I have problems with a strictly incarnational Christology." Or "Well, I practice meditation, but it's a combination of Zen shikantaza, shamatha, vipassana and metta practices."

Ironically, right after I charily outed myself as a simple straightforward Buddhist, a professor was asked the same question and she also freely declared herself a Buddhist. (And she even did it by pronouncing it in the "proper" way so it sounds like Buddh-ist, while I say something that sounds more like Bood-ist).

So, I guess I have moved from free-agency to the minor leagues. Maybe one day I will move up to the majors and actually ordain. (Although with a bald head and my huge gangly hands I look shockingly like Gollum).

Moksha's Just Another Word For Nothing Left to Give Away

The name of my blog is The Impermanent Record for a reason. The rejection of eternal essences and premises is the cornerstone of most (not all) Buddhist traditions.

Given my understanding of impermanence, at least at an intellectual level if not at the level of lived experience, why did I stand in front of a group of people five years ago and pledge my “undying” love to a woman. Even then, I have to admit that I had sneaking suspicions that the marriage wouldn’t last. There were already some resentments and worse, the seeds of contempt had been planted by a marked difference in the level of commitment we showed towards each other. But marry we did because, as my wedding ring proclaimed: Amor Vincit Omnia - love conquers all. Well, you can’t conquer the truth and the truth is that nothing lasts forever, not even love, and certainly not marriage. (Should I then say, as my family crest does Veritas Vincit Omnia – truth conquers all, or is truth, too impermanent?)

So here I sit without a wife. The stories of betrayal (on her part) and heartbreak inducing insanity (on my part) are too brutal to ever relive, even on paper. It’s been three months since I returned to India and found that I no longer had a wife or a home and only in the last few days am I beginning to feel like my breath has returned to me. I hope that in another three months, I may be able to get through a day without feeling the sensation of being strangled and sat on. (To whom do those invisible, grasping hands belong? Who is it that sits on my chest and crushes the life out of me?)

It hasn’t been all bad. To be honest, when I am able to separate myself from her memory and still the almost constant looping conversations of resentment and recrimination in my mind, I find myself doing quite well. I have always shared the spirit of adventure that sent Thoreau into the woods, Kerouac onto the road and Bilbo into the misty mountains with Gandalf and the dwarves.

I am a contemplative at heart. A wanna-be monk. I find great value in thrift, meditation and fasting. I love giving things away. In the last few weeks I have given away my DVD collection, sold my big screen television, my bass guitar and most of my books. Today, I am giving the ex-wife my cat (whom she grew to love) as a symbol of my forgiveness and of the good moments we shared together.

I’m not sure you can be truly mentally free (the only type of freedom that really counts) if you are imprisoned by your possessions. I’m not sure you can really practice the Dharma with a lot of stuff cluttering up your life. I’m not sure you’re really alive if you are living in debt.

So, the wife goes, the dog goes, the cat goes, the stuff goes. And what’s left? The collection of mental and physical traits that I call “I” and “mine.” Ultimately those will have to go too. Luckily, given impermanence, parting with your things is easy. In fact, it takes no effort at all. Just open your hand and the thing slips out of your life forever, leaving you with more space and more freedom than you ever thought you could stand.

Here is a little film I made during a trip to Galta. The music is provided by The Fleet Foxes and the goofy mugs are mostly by Colin, a dost from AIIS.

A Day in D.C.

Friday June 12th

I flew into Washington D.C. yesterday to attend the orientation for the Critical Language Scholarship before leaving for India on Friday. During a break, I hoofed it down to the capitol building; saw the Washington Monument and the White House. I love the fact that Michelle Obama could have planted her organic vegetable garden on any of the solitary acres of land that the White House sits on, thus making it more private. Instead she planted it a dozen yards from the looky-loo fence so anyone can see and be inspired by the lush, well manicured and fruitful garden.

Keeping with the Obama theme, I visited Five Guys Burgers. Watching the news coverage of Obama making a burger run at Five Guys makes it seem as if it was some kind of D.C. landmark. In fact, Five Guys is a fairly non-descript, In-and-Out style burger joint with 400 franchise locations. I arrived at the front door before they opened at eleven, so I decided to be adventurous kill some time in the gay bookstore next door. Why does every book in a gay bookstore have to do with sex, where to find people to have sex with and how to be good at it when you do find it?


Eleven o’clock rolled around I made my way back to Five Guys. I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu: a double bacon cheeseburger with A-1 sauce. The burger was worth the price and while I was eating I decided to snap a few pictures. One of the guys behind the counter caught me and playfully yelled over in a high girlish voice, “Gotta take a picture of my burger!” We struck up a conversation and it turns out he has family in Lansing. He recommended that I visit the Smithsonian. Apparently even fast food jockies are impressed by the Smithsonian’s vast collection of art and artifacts. I’m leaving at 1:00, so I won’t be able to take his advice, but having ridden the metro, eaten at Five Guys, visited Lambda-Rising Rainbow Colored Bookatorium, seen the White House and had my glasses tightened in a fancy optical boutique, I feel like I have gotten quite a nice single-day visit to our nation’s capitol.

First day of Intro to Buddhism

I'm too worn out after Hindi, Dr. Schlutter's lecture, three sections of Intro to Buddhism and two and a half hours of Modern Japanese History to write much, so instead I will share the two images that are staving off my migraine.

Quote of the Day

I hope no reader will suppose that "mere" Christianity is here put forward as an alternative to the creeds of the existing communions -- as if a man could adopt it in preference to Congregationalism of Greek Orthodoxy or anything else. It is more like a hall out of which doors open into several rooms. If I can bring anyone into that hall I shall have done what I attempted. But it is in the rooms, not in the hall that there are fires and chairs and meals. The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try the various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose the worst of rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think preferable. It is true that some people may find they have to wait in the hall for a considerable time, while others feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at. I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into the room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not camping. You must keep on praying for light: and, of course, even in the hall, you must begin tying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house. And above all you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and panelling. In plain language, the questions should never be: 'Do I like that kind of service?' but 'Are these doctrines true: Is holiness here? Does my conscience move me towards this? Is my reluctance to knock at this door due to my pride or my mere taste or my personal dislike of this particular door-keeper?'



When you have reached your own room, be kind to those who have chosen different doors and to those who are still in the hall. If they are wrong they need your prayers all the more; and if they are your enemies, then you are under orders to pray for them. That is one of the rules common to the whole house" (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity. pg. 8).

Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar's Big Day

From Matthew 2 (NIV)

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, "Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him."
When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all the people's chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Christ was to be born. "In Bethlehem in Judea," they replied, "for this is what the prophet has written:
" 'But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for out of you will come a ruler
who will be the shepherd of my people Israel."
Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, "Go and make a careful search for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him."
After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.

From the Nalaka Sutta (Sn 3.11)
Quotations are from Thanissaro Bhikkhu

Once, while the sage Asita was residing in heaven, he heard that the gods were rejoicing like they never had before. Wondering what event had caused them such amusement, Asita approached the gods, and having bowed to them asked for the cause of their merrymaking. The gods replied.

"The Bodhisatta, the foremost jewel,
unequaled,
has been born for welfare & ease
in the human world,
in a town in the Sakyan countryside,
Lumbini.
That's why we're all so wildly elated.
He, the highest of all beings,
the ultimate person,
a bull among men, foremost of all people,
will set turning the Wheel [of Dhamma]
in the grove named after the seers,
like a strong, roaring lion,
the conqueror of beasts."

With the intent of seeing the newborn Boddhisatta, Asita descended to Earth and entered the Kingdom of Kapilavastu. Having approached baby Siddhartha and while holding him in his arms, Asita began to weep. Fearing that his actions were a sign that some calamity would soon befall the young prince, King Suddhodana asked the sage why he was crying.

“On seeing the Sakyans' concern
he replied, "I foresee for the prince
no harm.
Nor will there be any danger for him.
This one isn't lowly: be assured.
This prince will touch
the ultimate self-awakening.
He, seeing the utmost purity,
will set rolling the Wheel of Dhamma
through sympathy for the welfare of many.
His holy life will spread far & wide.
But as for me,
my life here has no long remainder;
my death will take place before then.
I won't get to hear
the Dhamma of this one with the peerless role.
That's why I'm stricken,
afflicted, & pained."

Then, having brought the family of Siddhartha such abundant rapture he took his leave from the kingdom.



CMB! Happy Epiphany!

Lucas and Me

Over the break I had a nice visit with my good friend Lucas. After dinner we decided it would be nice to indulge in a film. I wanted to watch WALL-E on DVD but Lucas was set on going to the theater to see Valkyrie. As usual Lucas got his way, but I got back at him by being cranky during the trailers and sleeping through most of the film. Afterwards, Lucas wouldn't stop telling me how disappointed he was that the filmmakers had chosen not to include the contributions of Neo-Orthodox theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the Abwehr's July 20th plot to assassinate Hitler.

Back at home we had a late night cocktail (Lucas drank a dry martini, while I had cookies and milk). Before I got into my jammies, I reminded Lucas that he was a poopy-head and threw some LEGOS at him.

St. Thomas More

More married again very soon after his first wife's death, his choice being a widow, Alice Middleton. She was older than he by seven years, a good, somewhat commonplace soul without beauty or education; but she was a capital housewife and was devoted to the care of More's young children. On the whole the marriage seems to have been quite satisfactory, although Mistress More usually failed to see the point of her husband's jokes. (The Catholic Encyclopedia)