Busted

Dag. One frickin day in a row of blogging. Surely I can do better. Seriously, I feel you. You're out there saying, "Shit, dog; if you're trying to go back to school for journalism, maybe your ass oughtta practice havin something to say." Well, fuck you. Basketball's on.

Every Day

I'm trying to make myself write every day. Even if it's just a bit (which it will be today), or completely insensate (which it will be almost always). I need to sharpen up my writing skills and get more proficient at organizing my thoughts. For some reason, longhand never does it. I can type so much faster than I can scribble; it's easier to keep up with my mind this way.

The main reason I feel I should improve my writing is because I think I've decided to go back to school. I say "think" because several things need to fall perfectly into place for my finances to take this massive hit. I'm applying to EKU, to their Communications department. Specifically, the Journalism program, hence the need to work on my skillz. Which, hopefully, will end up payin da billz.

I'm tired of being unskilled, undereducated, and underpaid. When I was 22 I thought, "Of COURSE I can wait tables the rest of my life. I don't want a REAL job anyway; I wanna stick it to the man. Or at least avoid him." Well, it turns out the man is where you find him, and I'm finding him more and more in the restaurant biz. It's all so unrewarding: financially, emotionally, spiritually. There's just nothing there. And it's obvious I'm not going to accidentally become "that guy". You've met one of "those guys", I'm sure. We all have. They start telling you some convoluted story about who they know and how they met, how they go way back and lost touch for a while. Then they reconnected and the other guy was rich with a kick ass job. He hooked his uneducated, talent-less bro up with a bitchin job that makes no sense to you. You know; he's the Acting Vice-President of Inter-Firm Communication and Computer File Relocation. He works from home, in his boxers, about two hours a day and gets paid 100,000 a year. That guy.

I'm not going to luck into that. Or, at least, I'm tired of waiting. So back to school with me, just like Billy Madison. Unfortunately, right now, it's back to my shitty bartending job. More later.

Sunday. Sigh. Bloody Sunday.

Great gangrene-riddled Christ! I haven't worked a Sunday in nearly a year and I have totally been taking this for granted. Sunday, as anyone in the restaurant industry well knows, is infamous for being the absolute worst day possible to have a shift.

When I worked at Don Pablo's, Sunday was anathema to our servers. Corporate policy was to give free fountain drinks to anyone who brought in the program from their church. I haven't the faintest idea why. Perhaps it was some kind of misguided moral reinforcement: We are SO proud of you for going to church today that we'll waive the buck-sixty you would have paid for this Sprite. Keep it up!

People flocked to Donny P's on Sunday. I don't know why they so desperately needed to get their Mex-on right after church, but they hit the door hard and fast. That place filled up like Leo's lungs at the end of Titanic. And make no mistake; these were the absolute WORST people you can imagine. Rude doesn't even scratch the surface of their attitude. They were the most awful, sanctimonious, put-out, furious, disdainful folks you can imagine. They were seething with hate before they even sat down, all of them. Some of it could be explained by the inept, high-school hostesses they spoke to first. But I can't believe that every single one of them was pissed off by a ditzy little blonde girl that mispronounced their last name. What happened to these people to fill them with such high-octane rage?

If you've never waited tables, you can't begin to conceive of what servers go through on Sunday. The percentage of people who yell at their server, demand to speak to the manager, ignore the hostess and seat themselves, and just generally complain about everything, is through the roof. And speaking of percentages, tipping is nearly non-existent on Sunday. Most of the mulleted rednecks that attended Don Pablo's couldn't figure out ten percent of ten dollars if you put a gun to Jeff Gordon's head in the first place. However, on Sunday, fury replaces mathematics. Not only is Sunday terrible because of the customer's attitudes, it's even worse because we get paid LESS to wait on people who hate us MORE.

I have seen servers cry on Sunday. I don't mean the new girl, the one that just can't seem to get the hang of it and has never waited tables before. I'm not talking about the guy working his first Sunday, which happens to be Mother's Day (the Armageddon of the serving world). I'm speaking of tough, battle hardened, leather-skinned pros who've been at this for years. They've seen nearly everything, and Sunday can still do this to them.

Joseph-Beth is a lot better than anywhere I've ever worked. Granted, our everyday clientele is a little higher-class than the average hunting aficionados that populate Lexington. This means that our Sunday crowd is better behaved than the dolts flocking to Golden Corral. Nonetheless, people are still short with us, much too tense, and disinclined to leave a decent tip on the table.

What the fuck is the problem with Sunday? Why do you people make it so hard on us when we woke up this morning dreading going to work in the first place? Why must we serve your hateful ass on a day when you so obviously don't possess the temperament to be out in public?

I'll tell you why. Fucking church. Church is the only thing all these people could have in common on Sunday. Considering most of them are late 30's to mid-60's, they certainly weren't all out drinking on Saturday night (which is where their servers were). A lot of them have their spiteful little kids with them, but they can't all be fed up with them. Most of them have normal jobs, which means they're back at it Monday morning, but they can't ALL be clinically despondent about that. They have the whole day off. They had all day yesterday off. Church is the only practical explanation for ruining everyone's day on Sunday, including mine, and I don't even fucking GO to church.

These folks have to get up early. They have to drag their recalcitrant kids out of bed because most children congenitally and naturally realize that church is a monstrous waste of time. They have to put something nice on. Maybe not a tie, but at least zip your dress pants up you fat bastard! They have to manhandle said children into something respectable. In order to sleep as late as possible, breakfast is out, so the roads are full of drowsy, hungry, resentful people. We know why they're drowsy and we know why they're hungry. But why are they resentful? Because they fucking hate church, that's why. They don't want to go, but they go anyway, which pretty much defines religion as a whole phenomenon. It's like exercise; they may not like it, but they think it's good for them, so they force it.

Think about it. If one hour a week is too much for you to give to your god, if it makes you the surly, mean-spirited, cantakerous lout I have to deal with later, just stop going. Please. For the good of mankind, cut out this church shit. This is supposed to be the time in your week when you're joyful and full of praise and delight and what not. You're thanking god for letting your wretched existence continue another 7 days. But, just like the rest of us that have figured out that it's all a sham, you're bored. The singing is terrible and off-key. The sermons are patently absurd. The minister or priest or reverend has done this a thousand times and would really rather be at home surfing through MonsterLoad.com's quality site. You don't like church. You KNOW you don't like church. What you maybe don't know is that it makes you an asshole for the rest of the day. You wasted your morning by sitting in a building that I'm convinced is the one place god most certainly is NOT. You've wasted your time and your family's time, and, now that it's all over, you're hungrier than ever. Well, fucking go to Don Pablo's cause I don't wanna see you.

February Sucks

I apologize to my 3 semi-loyal readers for my lack of dedicated blogging in the month of February. As everyone knows (except, perhaps, the stinking commies), February sucks. While it is the shortest month (and, pointedly, Black History Month) it drags its ass like an old tired dog. Everyone is sick of winter by February, they're ready for the interminable professional ice hockey season to end and they've caught their third cold of the fucking winter. I myself am suffering from one right now. However, since I am a bartender, I'm not calling in sick. Oh, no. I'm going to work and I'm getting the goddam customers sick, too.

So, fuck you, February. We're glad you're gone. Take your useless President's Days and your stupid Groundhog Day and your wretched Valentine's Day and cram em all up your twisted little ass.

Gasp!

I wonder if anyone has told that witless, draft-dodging, lying, pathetic, bastard-thug in the White House that the events of September 11, 2001 were faith-based initiatives?

FILTHY IDOLATORS!

When people from the West get over the inevitable shock that Buddhists don't belive in god, much less God, they eventually have a pressing question to ask. It's pressing because many of them have been raised in houses with a ridiculous book in it that commands folks not to create any graven images. Also, not to worship images of gold or silver. Also, not to have any other gods. The Lord admits right off the bat to Moses that he is, in fact, a jealous god. "Mo," he says, "I'm bout jealous."

Muslims find Buddhists quite shocking as well. Infinitely more shocking than Christians and Jews, whom they refer to as "People of the Book", meaning fellow Abrahamic followers. Muslims have a stance on graven images that is, like so much else in their religion, militant. Were they to actually keep to the literal Koran, they'd have to kill me, convert me, or impose a huge, non-Muslim tax on me.

As it is, everyone who isn't a Buddhist wants to know the same thing; why we have those silly shrines where we bow to Buddha and worship all our other pagan gods. This is a legitimate question, and one I like to answer as it dispels several misconceptions at once.

Misconception 1: We bow to images of Buddha because we worship him.

This is not true. No Buddhist anywhere in the world, of any sect or discipline, worships the Buddha. The Buddha taught that the state of being awake and free and happy is inherent to being human. It is not something outside of ourselves that we must seek, nor can it be conferred by a higher being. This state of true wakefulness is where the Buddha came by his title, as Buddha simply means "awakened one."

Buddhism is not a religion. It does not have a savior, only teachers. Siddhartha Gautama, the historical Buddha, was not the first, nor will he be the last. His teachings point to a truth that is visible to anyone should they care to look. One needs neither piety nor salvation to discover that one is already happy and at peace. The so-called state of "Enlightenment" is as natural as breathing, it is not holy, and it is already possessed by everyone.

Why then, do we bow to images of Buddha on our shrines? Because we are bowing to ourselves. We are the Buddha. We bow to our own awakened nature to remind ourselves of what we're doing. We bow in respect to ourselves, because it's only by our own actions that we can be saved. No one can do this for us. The shrine is a mirror that reflects our perfection. Before we sit down to meditate, we bow in front of this mirror to catch a glimpse of the Truth.

We also bow out of respect for the Buddha. He went before us and created a path that makes it easier for the rest of us to follow. Because of him, we have an established method of interacting with internal peace that has been empirically tested over the past 2500 years. He showed us that compassion and wisdom are the two wings to freedom. He developed a highly specified means to cultivate these, based on his own experiences. Therefore, because of our gratitude and respect for him as our teacher, we bow in thanks.

Misconception 2: The Buddha was a god, which is why we revere him.

Again, sorry. Not a chance. The Buddha was not a god. He didn't die for our sins so he could keep watch over us from beyond the stars. He was just a guy. He was dissatisfied with our fleeting pleasures and enduring suffering. He believed it was possible to be totally free and happy and content in this life. When he discovered that this was indeed true, he took it upon himself to teach it to others. He outright told his followers that he was just a man like them. He refused to be worshiped or placed on a level above others. He insisted that each and every one of us can discover the Truth in the exact same manner in which he did. When he was dying, his disciples were anxious because he had not named a successor. They wanted desperately to be able to hold on to something even after his death. In his final lesson, the Buddha refused to give that to them. He did not empower a successor, he told them to work diligently on their own salvation. He told them that they were responsible for themselves, not him. Then he died.

The Buddha was our teacher. Our human, imperfect, mortal, 5th century BCE, no doubt totally smelly, homeless teacher.

Misconception 3: When we die, we will be reunited with Buddha.

Nope. The Buddha is dead. He's gone. We'll never see him again. What's more, we don't really know what happens when we die. We're a little more concerned with living. Happiness is already here. We don't need death or the ghost of the Buddha to get us there. He taught his followers that they shouldn't concern themselves overmuch with what happened after death. And he certainly never mentioned that we'd all be in a happy place with him, all of our loved ones, and our pet turtle Frank, who passed at the unlikely age of two under the water heater. What and who we love in this world are transitory, and we will not take it with us into whatever happens next.

Misconception 4: It's necessary to have a shrine to be a Buddhist.

Definitely not true. Many Buddhist, especially here in the West, completely eschew this practice. Conversely, many native Buddhists all over the Eastern Hemisphere have elaborate shrines in their houses where they pay lip service to images of the Buddha without ever understanding why. They don't meditate or study. Buddhist images are so ingrained in their society that they often mistakenly believe that making offerings on their altars will ensure salvation.

A shrine is not a requirement to practice Buddhism. Many of us have them because it helps focus our practice. We have a corner or an entire room dedicated to this one activity. The shrine is a constant focal point and reminder. We're not here to worry about our cell phone bill, or to mentally balance our checkbook. We're not sitting down to rest or relax or get away from the world. We sit down in front of the Buddha, just like his followers did 2500 years ago. We meditate under his tutelage, just like they did.

But this is not necessary. It's just a visual reminder of Truth, which is internal. You can meditate anywhere, study anywhere, learn anywhere. There is no spiritual difference between someone who sits in their gorgeous shrine room with it's Buddha images and candles and incense and calligraphy, and the guy who sits in the corner next to his bed under his Aerosmith poster.

How It's Going

Today I started Zen meditation. Again.

It was good for me. I know it was. However, much like any other kind of exercise, it's a real bitch to get started. It's even harder to stay with it. I'd love to be one of those people that can say "Oh, God, it (whatever IT is) changed my life completely. I just don't feel right if I don't do it (what the fuck is IT?) everyday."

Alas, I am not. I can go months without exercise, zazen included. After all, zazen is exercise. Mental, physical, emotional exercise. People don't think it is cuz they just sit there. But I've had some of the best times and worst times of my life right there on the cushion.

Why is this? Why can I go so long without the one thing that truly makes people sane? How do I stay away from this practice that makes me the human I need to be?

Because it's hard. That's fuckin why.

But today saw my triumphant return. And tomorrow will see the thrilling sequel. Because unlike running, or biking or water aerobics, I feel awful when I don't sit. Mentally and physically and emotionally. The effort exerted is more important than the result. Making it to the shrine room and sitting my ass down, even if it's only ten minutes, produces a better day. Better days produce happier people and happier people will eventually stop voting for dirty little gangsters like George W. Bush.

So see if you've got the time anywhere in your day. You don't have to sit down in front of a statue of Buddha or Krishna or Loki. You don't need incense and candles. All you need is you, and maybe five minutes where the phone won't ring, or the baby won't cry or your husband won't have to have lethal amounts of alcohol pumped from his stomach.

Don't close your eyes. Don't shut out the world. Just breathe. Count your breaths if you're having trouble doing nothing. Count to ten then start over. Don't imagine the peaceful ocean or a warm playful breeze. Don't visualize a beautiful campfire. Just sit there. You'll be shocked at how much better you'll feel. Especially if you can do it more than two days in a row.

Trust me. I'm not some blissed out guy dispensing advice from on high. I'm the guy next to you on the bus struggling to do this myself.

Quotes

I don't feel very original today. Here are some folks who say it better than I do anyway:


"Like a good scientist, a Buddhist is ready to throw away any belief he or she holds the second it becomes clear that that belief conflicts with reality."

-Brad Warner


"Nothing is sacred. Doubt - in everything - is absolutely essential. Everything, no matter how great, how fundamental, how beautiful, or important it is, must be questioned."

-Brad Warner


"If faith could be looked upon as a flashing sword cutting through all confusion and doubts, belief could be considered that same sword in its scabbard."

-Albert Low


"If you stick to an idea or an image of God and if you do not touch the reality of God, one day you will be plunged into doubt."

-Thich Nhat Hanh


"The way lies in not doing, yet nothing is left undone."

-Lao Tzu

The Hardest of the Hardcore

Well, it seems I finally have a teacher. Before you get too excited for me, you should know that this is a long distance relationship. Of course, I swore I would never do that again, but I don't have much of a choice. The only person I want to study Zen with lives near LA, way out in the fabled lands of California. Now, I'm sure as fractured fuck not moving to LA, and I see no reason why he should leave his wife and his job to come to Kentucky. So it looks like I'll be making do with e-mails and phone calls. Hopefully, at least once a year, I'll be able to travel out there to do a retreat or a program he's directing.

This gentleman's name is Brad Warner. If anyone out there has read all the posts on this site, they'll recognize the name. Brad is an American who lived in Japan for over 10 years, during which time he was ordained as a Zen priest. True to his punk roots, he resisted assuming the mantle of any kind of authority figure for a long time. Eventually, at the persistent urgings of his teacher, Gudo Nishijima, he reluctantly accepted. He eventually wrote a book called Hardcore Zen that changed a lot of people's lives, mine included. Hardcore Zen shattered my Buddhist world. I had read quite a bit about Zen, but was a dedicated Tibetan practitioner. Tibetan Buddhism, also called Vajrayana, seemed to be my home. Looking back, I have no fucking idea why. Vajrayana is mystical, superstitious, otherworldly, extraneous, and full of trappings that clutter the path to Truth. I had always viewed it as gentle and accepting, which it is, and Zen as the Marine Corps of Buddhism, which it is. That always frightened me, so I stuck with the convoluted directions of Vajrayana.

Brad's book shook me. It shook me so hard, in fact, it knocked the Tibetan teachings right outta me. Hardcore Zen pointed to the Truth. It pointed with one brutal finger, screaming all the while for me to open my goddam eyes. It made me realize that the Truth does not give a fuck about me, nor can it be confined by a belief. Tibetan Buddhism is riddled with beliefs; the belief in reincarnation, in gods and goddesses, unseen beings and other planes of existence. Hardcore Zen said "Fuck Belief". The minute you start forming beliefs, your search for Truth is over.

I was blown away. This book is filled with irreverence. It is not holy, nor is it special, or relative, or mitigated by any trace of bullshit. Just like the Truth. Brad may be a Zen priest, but that doesn't mean he sits around wallowing in bliss or trotting out ridiculous riddles to answer honest questions. He speaks just like the punk he is. He lays out the teachings, he explains how they lead to the Truth, and if you don't believe it, or don't think it works, then suck it.

The Truth is free. It's there for everyone. It has nothing to do with chanting or bowing or beautiful costumes or reincarnation or prayer or especially beliefs. When I realized this, Vajrayana Buddhism coughed politely, stood up, smoothed the wrinkles out of its silly dress, and left the room.

The room is empty now. It has no possessions or designs. The only thing it has is potential. With a true teacher, like Brad Warner, it's the potential that needs to be explored, not the furnishings.

All Is One

I work in a restaurant. Last night as I stood morosely at my bar, contemplating walking out for the fifth time in an hour, a lady wandered past. She was behaving strangely, kinda flapping her hands and weaving. Was she drunk? I wondered. Was I?

Then she turned around. Her face was red and her hands weren't flapping, they were clasping and unclasping around her throat. Doesn't matter whether you're in Nepal or West Virginia, hands around the throat always means the same thing; I'm choking.

I was instantly terrified. My friend Daniel was sitting at the bar with his back to the woman, counting his money. "Daniel, this woman's choking," I said, as I moved towards her.

I got to her slightly ahead of him and put my hand on her shoulder. "Are you choking?" I asked. She nodded violently, making no noise, which is a dead giveaway. "Can you breathe at all?" A violent shake of her head, her watering eyes horrified.

Still scared witless, I got behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and gave one huge Heimlich hug. She instantly began sputtering and coughing. I asked if she was OK and she coughed out a yes. In a few seconds we were surrounded by her server and the manager and her own daughter. She pleaded with us not to make a big deal of it, to just let her sit back down. She thanked me pretty profusely and went back to her table.

Once it was over, my hands started shaking and adrenaline made me twitchy. I'm a trained EMT and that was my first real do-or-she-dies situation. I don't even have a certificate yet. My terror came primarily from the threat of responsibility. I was the only person in sight specifically trained to stop that woman from choking. Yet I still wanted desperately for someone else to take control.

Which, of course, someone would've if I'd hesitated. Because, let's face it; giving someone the Heimlich isn't really a big deal. Even if you're not trained to do it, I'm pretty sure you could. Someone else would've saved that lady if I hadn't. The only person it's a big deal to is her. She was the one choking.

Buddhism teaches that that woman is me. It doesn't point this out in some Golden Rule ploy, so I'll treat her the way I'd like to be treated. It points out that, essentially, she and I are the same creature. We desire happiness, we wish to avoid suffering. We need food and water and love and patience. More, everything in the universe that draws breath is connected. Not in some stupid fucking drum circle version of hippie spirituality, but physically and mentally connected. So what happens to others happens to you. This is unavoidable.

Consider: You wake up late for work. You forgot to do laundry the night before, so your clothes are dirty. No time for a shower, you put em on anyway. At work you're one step behind all morning. You can't quite make up for the lost time so it looks like you'll have to stay late. When lunch comes, you head out to a Japanese restaurant. You stew for the entire meal about having to work late and your mood keeps deteriorating. When the bill comes, you stiff the server. Maybe you forget, maybe you just want to share the pain. Nevertheless, your server has just worked for free. He goes through the rest of his shift thinking about the gaijin asshole that wouldn't tip him. He also realizes that if he doesn't make some more green, he's not going to have rent. When he gets home he calls his sister in Kyoto to see how she's doing. At some point, patience worn thin worrying about money, he snaps at her and hangs up the phone. Not knowing why he's angry, his sister wonders if perhaps it's something she's done. What if she's upset him somehow? In her preoccupied frustration, she shouts at her 4 year old son, who bursts into tears.

Now you've done it. Because of oversleeping, a shitty mood, and failure to tip, you've extended your misery all the way across the planet to people you've never met. Granted, this scenario is oversimplified, but your actions really do affect others. Every single step you take has impact in the way hundreds of people experience their day. No single creature is exempt from this web.

So that woman is me and I am her. Trained EMT or not, it's everyone's job every day to look after humanity because they ARE humanity. When you turn your back on the suffering of others, you're refusing to help yourself. Since that lady is me, I was the one choking. Since I helped, you helped. Because you did, I'm still breathing. So thank you.

No Debate

Now, I know calling Intelligent Design "fuckin stupid" in my last post wasn't very nice. It seems uneducated, immature, and reactionary on my part, doesn't it? Like maybe I don't even want to engage in intellectual debate with these people, I just want to ridicule them.

Well, I DO want to ridicule them, and the primary reason is because there isn't a debate. No matter what the Christians have convinced themselves of, Intelligent Design vs. Evolution is not the long-touted battle the world has been waiting for. I don't know if they've noticed, but scientists don't seem particularly concerned about their latest attempt to disguise belief as fact.

This is because scientists measure things. They observe events and reactions. They record data and exhaustively test it to determine it's worth. And, until something with harder evidence comes along, that theory becomes the best possible explanation we have to work with. This is all based on empiricism.

Intelligent Design is not a theory; it's religious hogwash. It is not a new branch of science, as we are being told; it's a perfunctory attempt to dress up Creationism in 21st century clothing. ID proponents cannot produce a single observable trait of their idea. More importantly, because ID can't generate testable data, nothing about it can ever be confirmed. Gravity is a theory because, thus far, it's the only explanation that corroborates the extensive investigation into it's nature. ID is a belief, because nothing about it can be measured, tested, or examined.

I'm fine with teaching Intelligent Design in schools as a theology class. It should be an elective that people can take if they're interested in its philosophy. However, to call ID "science" is a hideous lie. It is NOT an alternative to evolution any more than fantasizing about a big-ass cheeseburger is an alternative to eating. And why is evolution the only theory being challenged? Why can't we use faith to overturn inertia, or Pythagoras, or the first law of thermodynamics? Christians need to stop worrying about whether they can pull this new wool over our eyes, and examine the mistruths that have led them here in the first place.

Science is not the opposite of faith, but faith can never be explored scientifically. That's why it's called faith, not fact. Explore your faith and understand its nature. Don't try to turn it into something else when you stumble over your insecurity.

Cuz I'm a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride. 

Hold Your Horses

Damn, but it's been forever since I've posted here. And this particular post is going to be very short. I just wanted to let my die-hard readers know that I'm not neglecting them, I'm just busier than a fiddler's bitch. I started this blog to force myself to write every day, and to write about something I care deeply about. And, of course, I suppose there's the off chance that someone will read it if they happen to Google "Crazed semi-literate rants on Buddhism and politics by tattooed, half-educated freaks with severe profanity disorders". However, it was created mainly for me to hone my writing and ranting skills, as well as to have an outlet to discuss (with myself) the world at large.

Which explains posts every day for three days and then this protracted absence. But, I SWEAR I have an excuse. I'm studying to be an EMT, so I can quit my shitty job bartending and take a pretty extreme pay cut to join a profession than saves people's lives. This Saturday is the first really big test, one of two that count. Next Monday is the REALLY big one, the one that, when you fail they say "OK, you're not an EMT." The state average on that second test is 33%, so I've been studying like mad. Every day I look forlornly at my computer as I read my "Emergency Care" book. Then, when I take a break, I ignore this page and download porn.

So there you have it. I haven't had the time lately to rant, or to discuss my Zen practice, which is blossoming like winter flowers. I haven't had time for much, except work and study. Even my sex life seems to be on hiatus. That's fairly excusable, as my wife is taking these tests with me. I'm also finding myself more and more interested in culture, society, politics and the like. This blog was originally (and perhaps a bit drunkenly) intended to be an exploration of Zen, but, the more I do it, the more I realize that I'm very much interested in other stuff.

I will return soon, I promise. Probably Monday night after the last test. Also after I put about six beers in me, to lubricate all my rant-joints and crazy-veins. Unless something else catches my admittedly capricious fancy, the next topic will be Intelligent Design, which I will preface with one small statement: it's fuckin stupid.

Onward, Christian Soldiers

So the Vatican has released it's newest document, mandate, crazy rant, whatever you wanna call it. Not surprisingly, it's subject is the unequivocal banning of any and all homosexual hopefuls aiming at a spot in seminary. Not only that, it also bars entry to anyone supporting "gay culture". What the fuck is gay culture? The only marginals they will consider are people who had "transitory" gay feelings that were overcome at least 3 years ago.

"Well, father, I was kinda gay for a while, but nothing ever happened. Oh, no, that was years ago. I'm totally straight now."

The Church seems to have forgotten that NONE OF THESE GUYS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING ANYONE!! What does it matter who you WISH you could fuck if you were ALLOWED to fuck?

Un-shockingly, this promulgation has succeeded in angering not just homosexuals, but any and all intelligent life on this planet. So, just for the record, let me make sure I've got this straight...

...the Catholic Church, indubitably the most corrupt, vile, dissembling, back-stabbing, murderous, greedy, hateful organization man has ever created...
...which for years has been experiencing drop offs in parishioners and crippling shortages of priests and seminarians...
...as well as appearing more and more archaic and cut off from the modern world...
...this Church, this cut-throat assembly of God's innermost homeboys (but no homeGIRLS)...

...has succeeded in alienating hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of people in one fell swoop?

BRAVO! WELL DONE, YOU OLD CRUSTY WHITE GUYS!

Holy flopping testicles, if we just sit back, the Church will suffer the slow, grueling, painful death it deserves.

Now, I know what you're saying. The Church NEVER modernizes; the laws of God and Jesus are eternal, they don't change with the times. Let's forget, for a moment, all the councils the Church has called in the past 2000 years to vote in and out specific rules, regulations, and declarations, and assume that God's laws are timeless. Isn't every man, woman and child a sinner? Isn't each and every priest, bishop, and cardinal a sinner? Yes, they are. So if a priest is a sinner, and a secular homosexual out there just butt-plugging away at everything he likes is also a sinner, who's worse, in the Church's view? They guy who's actively homosexual, or the guy that WOULD be actively homosexual if he weren't a priest?

If the Church was really thinking instead of just experiencing knee-jerk reactions, they'd demand gay priests. They'd have nothing but gay priests. The more homosexuals you get into celibate positions in the church, the less homos you've got out there banging each other.

If you love the sinner but hate the sin, where's the harm in gay priests? I know, I know, the Holy See teaches if you sin in your heart, you've sinned with your body. Let's look past that rather puerile viewpoint and take a gander from the other side. They're worried about gay priests lusting after altar boys, or the husbands of parishioners, or Spongebob Squarepants. What about all the straight priests? Are you telling me they don't lust after women? Old women, young women, hot women, repulsive women, Angelina Jolie and Barbara Bush? Of course they do. They're men! Men love to fuck! Men love to think about fucking! Is the gay priest a worse sinner because he fantasizes about sex with men? Apparently so. But they're all out there, thinking, at least occasionally, about sex. Gay sex, straight sex, donkey sex and lonely old self sex.

So if everyone is thinking about sex (at least until they let women in, who are not quite as obsessed with what everyone's genitals look like), the Church might as well mount a massive drive to recruit as many openly, flamboyantly, swishily, straight-up Liberace gay fellas as they can. It'll get em off the streets, which are teeming with bad influences and buttholes. And for every homosexual they get into seminary, that's one more guy they can study right up close until they realize the inevitable: these people are just like them.

But, until then, congratulations, Catholic Fathers! You're driving em away in droves and that's what I like to see.

George Michael Was Right

By Jiminy, you DO have to have faith. There is just no way to get through day to day life without it. Now, I'm not talking about faith in God, Allah, Odin, Satan, Zoroaster, the Great Spirit, or whatever you pray to; that's just silly. No, I'm referring to something completely different.

I have a wife. A gorgeous, goofy, precious creature that I can't imagine being without. I don't worry about her leaving me, though maybe I should, cuz I'm an idiot. Regardless, I wake up everyday with total faith that she'll be there, right beside me. When she leaves for work and I'm still trying to figure out how to make oatmeal, I have faith that she'll come home. She went to Vegas five months ago for a friend's batchelorette party and I didn't worry about her hooking up with Sigfried. Or Roy. Whichever one of them wasn't hideously disfigured by a fuckin tiger. I trust her, and faith is nothing but trust.

So faith is trust and trust is faith. It's integral to human nature. We cannot have relationships without trust. From birth we have no choice but to trust that our parents will take care of us, keep us warm and safe and love us. After that, we learn to trust others. We pick and chose friends and lovers and doctors and dry cleaners that we trust. We have to. We're all in this together.

When I get in my car, I have faith in my skills as a driver. Also, to a lesser degree, I have faith in other drivers not to just plow recklessly into me as they bang their cell phones against the steering wheel mounted plasma screen TV that was recently Pimped into their Ride. When I'm sitting in an airplane waiting to take off, I trust those guys that wander around the outside of the jet, ostensibly making sure the goddam thing is actually gonna fly. Again, I have no choice. If I'm going to fly, and I don't posses the knowledge to check out the aircraft, I have to put my faith in those lovely, orange-vested men and women.

So much of this life is out of our control, we have to have faith or we'd just go crazy. When you deposit a check in the bank, you go home certain it'll make it into your account. You probably don't spend a second worrying about it unless you have certain obsessive-compulsive disorders. That's faith. When your credit card is stolen and you call to cancel it, you're sure the woman on the other end of the phone is going to do just that. Why would she do otherwise? Faith. When you call Papa John's for the extra-large, deep dish, Bacon, Beef and Anchovy Super Mexican Melt Heart Attack Extravaganza, you're pretty sure the stoned delivery dude will find your house. Faith. When George W. Bush, our illustrious, infallible prez steps up to the podium, you can be absolutely fuckin certain he will say something hilariously stupid. Again, faith.

This list is eternally long. Not one step of your day occurs without at least a little snippet of trust that a particular thing will occur in a particular way. If your alarm doesn't go off, you don't wake up. If you don't have time for a shower, you'll stink at work. If your car doesn't start, you won't even MAKE it to work. If you don't go to work, your chronically late, stinky ass will be fired. Then you can't pay bills and you'll have to come work as a bartender with me. And I probably won't like you.

Religious jackasses have co-opted faith and made it into something completely different. They've turned it into a requirement for having a spiritual identity. They tell you that you must have faith in Jesus, and you'll be saved. They say you have to have faith that God loves you and has a plan for your baby daughter that died in her crib. God will never reveal himself to you; that would fuck up the game. No, it's your faith in him that makes you strong, it's your faith that proves to him that you love him back. You have to have faith that his quiet, still, little voice will be there, whispering into your brain that it's all OK, he's going to take very good care of you...

None of this shit helps you get through the day. At least, it shouldn't; if it does you're just deceiving yourself while reality whizzes by all around you. What gets you through the day is knowing that you're responsible for yourself. Salvation or damnation, it's all up to you. No one is coming to save you and you just might miss saving yourself if you keep waiting for it to happen. All the invisible crap that most religions rely on is totally useless. Which, unfortunately, makes most religions useless as well. Life isn't invisible, it's right here in front of you. It' s full of all this non-spiritual everyday stuff; bills and jobs and oil changes and dog shit and laundry and groceries. What helps you deal with THAT? That's what life is all about. I'm sorry, but it just isn't about merging with the Holy, or having visions of blissful unity or understanding God's plan for you. Life is about your everyday, normal living. What's the point of a perfect reward after you muddle through your confusing, painful life? You don't have to suffer blindly through these years. Your reward is right here, right now.

This is why Zen is different from other religions. In fact, it's so different that I hesitate to call it a religion at all. Is it a philosophy, then? No, it isn't. It's a set of instructions explaining reality and it couldn't care less if you follow it. Did your DVD player's manual give a shit if you read it? No, and it doesn't care if you know how to operate the equipment, either. The machine works the same way whether you understand it or not. Zen is exactly like that. The instructions are there but they are not open to debate because they don't describe spiritual opinions or philosophical theories, they describe what actually is.

Faith is required, naturally, but not the religious faith I've been speaking of. And quite derogatorily, too. I'm just a big ol bastard. Faith in Zen is faith in oneself. Can you make this journey? Are you dedicated enough to face up to the TRUTH when you find it? Because it won't be what you think it should be. You might not even like it but that won't make it go away.

If you're stressed and overwhelmed and unfocused, have faith that zazen (sitting meditation) can help you. Try it. Nothing happens. "Fuck," you think.

Try it again tomorrow. Nothing. "Fuck twice," you think.

Next day, more zazen. Boredom this time, mixed with some crankiness. Now you're getting somewhere! "This is a bunch of shit," you think.

But keep it up. Sit with the boredom, the irritation, the futility. Soon, all on it's own, your mind will start to settle down. It'll start to ground itself because that's it's natural state. One day you'll realize that something just happened that used to infuriate you and you barely even noticed. You'll notice that you smile easier and more often, and that your equanimity is more stable and present. When that happens, when you see the first, tiny benefit of zazen, your faith will swell. It will get strong and flexible, just like your mind. THIS is faith in Zen Buddhism. It's not pointed at something otherworldly or transcendent. It's trust that what you're doing is working in an empirical fashion to help you live happier and better. That's all you need.

By the way, the Buddha himself has told me to tell you NOT to take his word for it. You should question everything, all teachings, all techniques, all ideas, no matter where they come from. Investigate for yourself and make sure they work. Because, let's admit it, we're Americans, and if something don't work, we throw it the fuck away. Besides, what use is something if it doesn't help in daily life? Daily life is where we live, fer Chrissakes. We don't live on another plane, or in a vision of peace and love. We live HERE and HERE is where we must practice.

Don't look for heaven elsewhere. It's not up, it's not down. It's in all the bills and jobs and oil changes and dogshit and laundry and groceries. It's right here, it's real and tangible and perfect. Your life is Paradise.

This works. I promise. I'm not going to try to coerce you away from your personal faith. I will continue to tout the benefits of Zen practice the same way I tout the benefits of my widescreen, 52 inch, DLP, High Definition, 1080p Mitsubishi television: Because it's better than yours. And I can prove it. I have the instruction book right here.

Eat it!

I seem to have made a mistake in my last post. I don't sacrifice PUPPIES. God, no. Puppies are cute and fuzzy and playful and they can almost smile with thier precious little faces. I sacrifice GUPPIES. Who cares about guppies? I mean, they're just fish, and little fish at that.

I've heard, through various people and their sundry "scientific" references, that fish don't feel pain. I don't really see how this can be, as I'm fairly certain fish have a brain and a central nervous system, the two main components required to feel pain. I could be wrong, however, and I would welcome the TRUTH. I could probably find out for myself on that devilish tool, the Internet, but, I'm busy.

Anyway, fish don't feel pain. Or their memories only last for 30 seconds at a time, so they don't remember suffering. Or perhaps they understand that their pain is helping them to get rid of their negative karma. Whatever rationale you want to try to use, I've yet to have anyone properly explain to me why they call themselves a vegetarian and still eat fish. I understand people who say "I only eat fish. No red meat, no chicken, no pork or ostrich or cat or panda." That makes perfect sense. Fish is healthy.

Also, I understand vegetarians. "I don't eat meat. I don't like a big ol critter having to die so that I can live." No problem there. Eat your tofu, I don't care. You should know, however, that millions of insects are killed in making even one acre of land available to grow vegetables. So it's quite impossible to live without killing. I do, however, respect the step that vegetarians have taken. I wish I could take it.

But what the hell is wrong with people who say they're vegetarians but they eat fish? These people are dopes. Have you ever talked to one? I've met some who actually say that fish isn't MEAT. How in the shiny blue fuck could FISH not be MEAT? You are eating the FLESH of an ANIMAL. Come on, you're just being asinine. I am here to assure you, one hundred percent, that fish is composed entirely of meat.

What a ludicrous argument. What's the point? If you only eat fish, then just accept it. Vegetables and fish is a healthy diet. Don't try to cloak yourself in righteousness by claiming pure vegetarian status. When you get right down to it, deep in the muck of existence, there is absolutely no distinction of nobility between a vegetarian and an omnivore. Being pround of what you eat, or don't eat, is stupid.

Eat whatever you like. It's possible to eat pounds of meat every day and be a deeply compassionate person concerned with the welfare of all beings. It's also possible to only eat vegetables and be a sanctimonious, smug prick. It's your mindset, motivation, and intentions that are crucial.

All that being said, I hope to have the motivation someday to become a vegetarian. I appreciate the decision and the lifestyle. But fish? Fuck fish. Eat the hell out of em. Fuck vegans, too. You can eat them but they taste like dirt.

Here We Go

Hello, all. And by "all", I mean, any who happen to stumble across this blog and wonder "where do I get the drugs HE's on?"

I've never blogged before. Frankly, the term sounds quite lewd. Perhaps these will all be scatological references: Dear god, Alice, I barely know her, how could we have ever blogged? With any luck, this blog will turn out like the movie "Pump Up the Volume". If you haven't seen it you should give it a gander. Christian Slater at his best, which, some will say, is still not good enough. Anyway, his character starts a pirate radio station way out in the crunchy, sandy boonies. Every night he goes on the air and pretends he's talking to thousands of people, humbly imagining that maybe a few hear him. Turns out, his whole damn high school is listining, rapt, as he goes bugfucking insane and gives TRUE meaning to their desultory, conformist lives. He is elevated to iconic status. Of course, he goes to jail. But, I do believe these blogs are sanctioned by the FCC, which was Christian's major problem towards the end of the film.

Right. So perhaps thinking that a few people will read and respond to this is over and above the optimistic attitude. After all, I only found this blog cuz Brad Warner has one here. The only reason I discovered that is because he has a website, all his own, totally seperate from the blogshpere. The reason he has a website is cuz he is a Zen priest, and wrote a fabulous book called "Hardcore Zen". He wrote this tome because he didn't want people to go on thinking that Zen Buddhism was the namby-pamby, transcendent-vision oriented, granola-crusted hippie idea that was wallowing on the shelves of most bookstores. "Hardcore Zen" was a spiritual bitch-slap to my callow white face. It put me on the road to sanity, can I get a hallelujah?

So: I found this site because of Brad. However scattered his following may be, they are there. He is, after all, a priest. He did, as mentioned, write a book. People, however misguided (myself among them), adore him. I read his book. I went to his website. I got the link to his blog. It said "Hey, start your OWN blog, dude! Get OUT there, man! Begin blogging posthaste!" So here I am. No priesthood. No book. Nothing to offer except rant after rant aimed at the truth.

I am a Zen student. Quite the opposite of the X-Files, we're taught that the truth is "in there". Not personal truth. Not relative truth. Not the truth that may be used in certain situations and discarded in others. I'm talkin bout the TRUTH can I get a hell yeah?

TRUTH is universal. It is black on one side and white on the other. The only gray comes from the fuzzy area in the middle where our understanding is not great enough to become one of the two. TRUTH is just as true in Zimbabwe as it is in Canada. There is no difference in its expression from Chile to Mongolia. I don't care what continent, what province, what state, what locality, what nation or precinct you are, TRUTH is the shit. It don't change from Pluto to Mercury, it ain't no different in Heaven or Hell.

This here blogsite if for TRUTH explorin. I'm not a holy man; I'm barely a spiritual man. But my understanding of TRUTH grows everyday, and I'm here to share it. I want feedback, I want dissenting opinions, I want snuffling and drunkening and bad-ass darkling. Bring it. We will find the honest light of the TRUTH together and drag the ignorant into its perfect blaze.

This is, of course, assuming that soemone, sometime, will read this silly shit. If not, it 's back to sacrificing puppies for me.

yours in the dharma,

purple