Our Love is Easy

A fairly recent graduate of N.D.U.(Near Death University) of which I am alumni. Here she is with Herbie Hancock talking about her healing, and singing.

This is a treat, someone said Billie Holidayesque. Today, while meditating and totally into the peace in my mind, a 1/2 hour into it at the gym someone came right in front of me and jumped up and down. I guess it was done to see if it would disturb me, but alas, even I was shocked...never a flinch, nor did I open my eyes. I never know who did it, because when the mediation ended I did not care to find the person looking into faces. Yet, another relaxation level for me working on the fact that I may die today. Our Death is Easy!

Are You Worth It?

Fall has hit big time, a chill that never seems to fully disappear even with a sunny day. I went to a fundraiser for LGBT Historical Society looking for a new museum space. Funny, I feel like gay history now, since I have donated a few interesting pieces to them. I participated, but like a boy in plastic bubble with all the noise, it made it almost impossible to talk.

This week, I have been busy with my refinishing my front door. It is still a good weatherproof door but subject to sun, and the clear coat was screaming for chapstick. I am trying to figure out the best way to make it last longer and make it fun and interesting. Meanwhile, it means a cooler house, and I don’t want to buy a new door, as it seems like such a waste of money. Not like I really enjoy sanding, but trying to introduce mindfulness to it. I began to think of my Dad spending hours sanding his boat or a piece of art using the fine touch of his hands to feel the surface. I thought that all he sanded and all the time he spent is lost. Now, why I am I sanding again? I guess to save some money, and the environment by not throwing, yet another, thing away.

Earlier in the day, a neighbor finally contacted me about doing some color consulting on their house. The husband likes to joke about everything in a dead pan sarcastic way. And has for years. He said some neighbor hates my exterior color without telling me who. But I think it is said to knock me down a little, because they have watched me fix my house for years. Or maybe it was his wife’s idea to call me and not his? Never the less, I feel like I have to prove my worth, but I am using this one as yet another patience test. Like most people I contact, they want free suggestions about everything. But upon seeing their interior, it had never been redone in over 20 years. So, I said you are wasting your money to ask me to do a color in rooms that have never been updated. Honestly, they could use any color and it is not going to make the room better. They aren't a clean slate when you keeping old stuff. They confessed they would rather travel then fix their house. I said that's smart, and we talked about ideas where to go next, to relax the husband. Later, I said lets do the outside, because I have come up with a few ideas that will hide the mismatch of a cheap 70’s redo on lopped on a 30’s house. That is one thing that will make the presence seem like it is together. But in the process we talk about where next to live and agree that our houses will soon be someone else’s problem. So, I leave our meeting in a light mood, and hopefully next visit we can finalize colors.

Ragin' or Fishin'

If life were truly fair, would we have anything to be pissed about?
I have been called a faggot since Junior High School, and as recently as a couple of weeks ago. While waiting at a bar for a beer in Washington, the waitress leaned over and said "faggot" to the bartender. Little did she know that because of my speech disability, my hearing ramped up along with sense of smell. Well, I smelled a rat, and watching the bartender serve others that came after me. Now, I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt after a day on a boat, very regular. I am not a "Liberace" kind of faggot. Well, I just told my Mom and her husband quietly, and we just left even though they just seated us for dinner.
I have used my anger about things like this to work on our rights for over 25 years, but now I am feeling like backing off and let the next Generation take over. Not wimping out, trying to approach things on a new tack. For me to be relaxed about injustice and fairness is new to me. I know I am trying to lean towards wisdom over outrage for my my own mental and physical health. And it is a great relief. When I saw this post tonight about a store selling Nazi crap, I could feel the rage and questioned whether this was the right way to approach this. Never-the-less, I could also appreciate what Jack was trying to point out. Thank you, to those out there who never relax.

Independently Stranded

I overheard someone talking at my gym while I started meditation, about going home to her parent’s house when she will has surgery and to stay there when she recovers. That, of course sounds logical because of where they live they have no stairs which is better after she has knee surgery. But it also says a whole lot about your supposed independence and your friends who can't take the time to help which she said was more of the issue. We often think we can be independent of others. We were raised with help of our parents, and we need people at every step of the way; from getting a job, to eating vegetables we did not pick, to having a partner able to share their love. We need others even if it is just to be an ear to our problems.

In yoga you look for community, it is not done alone independent of others as a workout in a class situation. Today, I offered a suggestion to a woman who is my class, but after class and not in front of others. I said, “Don’t work so hard, when out of breath, rest and watch. We all are beginners at our own level.” It is the only class she takes, and it is kind of advanced, and I fear she will hurt herself. Many poses if done when tired you can get lazy and do damage to your body. Someone told me this when I started 10 years ago, and I relaxed about keeping up. I still rest now, when I get tired. Sadly, a lot of people feel ashamed if they rest no matter how many times the teacher tells them it is, in itself, a natural pose.

Well, she took it all wrong, and was offended. I guess she thought why would a stranger tell me this? Because she said, “Of course, I am not a good as you, but I do fine.” The look on her face said, I crossed a line I should not have. Now, should I just let it go or write my intention down on paper was to be helpful to her not judgmental? In class quite a few people of all ages talk to me, so I am not some odd man out throwing this out there. I just don’t want her stranded or discouraged which can happen if you jump in without getting the body conditioned to the moves and positions. Or should I learn from this not to speak until spoken to?

When All Else Fails

When the whole financial house of cards unraveled last year, I started to worry like most people did and still do. Even though I thought, a year earlier, that this real estate boom couldn’t possibly continue, so I should have been more prepared. I just gradually tried to relax, and think about what is most important to me. It would be the love of my partner and family and having my health but most important… would be the realization of Dhamma. So, I immediately started a 1/2 to 45 minute meditation every day. Sure, I had a meditation practice but not so regular. I would have days where it would be easy, and other days when worry reared it’s ugly head when I thought, “How far down can this market go?” I would laugh at myself trying to put faith in something that I knew deep down was never really a source of happiness in the first part. The economy or even the market never really loved me, even when things were great.

So, I would watch my thoughts everyday, some days accessing where old dreams are stored or the subtle sense of the blood flow to my eyeballs and lids or just finding peace in the midst of chaos. And because I would do it most days before yoga in my gym, found that it made my practice easier in spirit and breath. I actually felt like I cheated, because I had the heads up on most people who walk it and go right at it. Try to balance with a busy mind. During the class, I could also hear the frustrated breath of others, and so I offered the room a smile or a chuckle. As people came into the space while I was meditating, I would notice, that even with people who were not conscious of me or cared, it would still gradually introduce a peaceful element. I was amazed after a time how much noise people make and it would never make me flinch. And so after a while more and more people would try to meditate. And the ones who didn’t became a little more considerate….all without me saying a word. Not even a frown.

The Scary Truth

Ring My Bell

Doorbell, rings…half expecting a friend to drop by, I answer even though in the middle of doing two things. Uggh, it is two people trying to sell me something. I immediately say to myself, don’t look pissed and let them do their job, using every bit of my patience, with the man talking a mile a minute. He says in the beginning of all this, saying he is not trying to sell me anything, doesn’t want any money… just to earn points. But he has nothing in his hand, and I smell a scam. The woman with him is just smiling nervously, saying occasionally, “that’s right!” He is a young and handsome, and she is a little worn on the edges. If I had to guess she was a former drug user, but life has not been too good to her. While he was still talking, I watch her, looking back to him hinting I need to know what you really want. He stops and says, “We are from the projects and just trying to get up in the world and by earning points we can… with your help!” I still don’t quite understand how I am supposed to give him points, and voilà, he reaches in his back pocket to whip out his tattered program. Pointing to my supposed neighbors on his sheets that gave him points, he tells me that by signing up for magazines, I earn him points. I say I really don’t need any more magazines, especially at inflated rates, scanning his list noting they are ones I don’t read. I scan his program pages, looking at the hokey company page. Nothing looks real to me. The whole thing is so round a bout that is totally confusing. Maybe his boss (if he has one) designed it this way if it is real. People will give anything just for them to get out of your face.

So, I say how else can you get points? I really want this to end soon. He tells me you can buy points, and points to a check a neighbor supposedly written in his receipt book, which he kept in his other back pocket. I look at him, and say I really can’t. “We are trying to get out of the projects, and looking for a hand up. You got this house by help,”looking around, he says. I say, “Wait a minute, are you assuming that I am rich and did not work hard for my house? This house did not fall out of the sky for me, and yes, I came from nearly nothing and had a tough life, too. That tactic won’t get you any further, I say to myself. “Well, there is not much I can do for you, I am just not interested and yes, money is tight like you said.” (referring back to the myriad of points he made in his spiel) He got the idea, and then asked me if I have any food for them. I said, “of course,” giving them my last two Clif bars. I wished them well and off they went. e saiHH