I have been struggling with the rewrite of Kaleidoscope. Not the actual writing but going back through the emotional content of the events. It is difficult for me to stay light and distant from situations that hurt so much. The last thing I want is to drag ass through the thing, wandering from ponderous to petulant to oh-poor-me and back. That isn't writing to share; I wouldn't publish it. Everyone deals with their share of pain and suffering. The Buddha says that's what life is.
On the other hand, for me to think adding my story is a kind of piling on is self-aggrandizing. Like they say in meetings, people will take what they need and leave the rest. It probably is not that I worry about the pain I may inflict on others but the pain I feel as I write.
Super.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Essay
BUDDHIST CANNIBALS
Buddhists are cannibals. My best friend from childhood told me so. Her place in my life is such that I was stunned, acutely aware of the August heat bubbling the blacktop where we stood as if it were a foretaste of Christian hell. I asked Kay where she’d learned Buddhists are cannibals. Her minister had made it plain in a Sunday service. I gave up any thought of educating her about Buddhism. I learned long ago that for some, including Kay apparently, pastor equals man of god equals word of god equals no questions, not ever, so help me god and gesundheit. Our conversation stalled. I said good bye and hied my damned self away.
When I was a teenager, I was receptive to Kay’s evangelical fervor. She seemed calm and secure. Those were things I desperately wanted then and I hoped to find them in one more Bible reading, one more church meeting. It would answer every question, ease every pain. I knew I’d miss out if summer Bible camp held the answers I sought. My brothers, my sister and I spent summers picking berries and beans for new clothes and supplies for school. I was never dedicated enough to earn much as a picker and when I discovered alcohol, both my clothes fund and church attendance suffered. In alcohol I found oblivion, which I mistook for calm.
Fast forward many years of oblivion and otherwise, past Kay and I in the parking lot, I am wondering why that moment with her sticks in my memory like a flag. What about that brief, near-conversation holds me, do I hold onto? The answer seems important. Kay called me a cannibal indirectly. I don’t think I’m bothered by that particularly; I know more about Buddhism and myself than Kay does. To take offense is to waste energy, just as working to change her mind would have been. Buddhism, at least in my understanding, is not an evangelical faith. People seek it or they don’t and either way is just fine. In any case, cannibalism seems antithetical to proselytizing, an odd twist of the idea of reincarnation. Such an odd twist, I can’t help but wonder who thought of it. Neither Kay nor her pastor, I think.
My inventive mind suggests the idea came from some higher authority. Not God. Someone in a suit working at the head office of that denomination -- an administrator telling the coaches (pastors) what truths to share with the team (parishioners). This administrator, or maybe it was a committee, hears about reincarnation. It doesn’t fit in the evangelical Christian world view, which makes it dangerous. It must be made to fit, it must not challenge. So, if a.) Christ died and rose again, which is reincarnation and b.) only Christ was divine enough to reincarnate, therefore c.) any claims to reincarnation by ordinary mortals is blasphemous. The Papists, those blasphemers, drink the blood and eat the body of Christ. That’s a kind of cannibalism. Buddhists believe in reincarnation without the blood and body of Christ, therefore they must be cannibals in a more direct way. That’s my thought about how Buddhists became cannibals and is probably wrong. Yet the twist is so odd to me, I keep trying to make sense of it, to understand what is otherwise incomprehensible. In this, I am not so different from Kay or her church.
This effort to understand is itself not Buddhist. It is the effort of a western mind firmly grounded in Judeo-Christian ethic. Mine is a mind that will invent where answers are beyond it. A human mind. I am grateful to Kay (and her pastor) for making me question. Perhaps that’s why that chance meeting remains with me. Questions are necessary things.
Paradoxically, answers are not necessary. James Hollis, a Jungian psychotherapist, argues that acceptance of dogma, of received truths, is inauthentic to true spirituality. He notes that “mature spirituality already lies within each of us, in our potential to take on the mystery as it comes to us, to query it, to risk change and growth, and to continue the re-visioning of our journey for so as long as we live.” (Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life: Gotham Books, 2005)
Hollis does not say that questions will bring either answers or peace. In fact, the chapter of his book that addresses mature spirituality is immediately followed by a chapter entitled ‘Swampland Visitations,’ in which he explores the idea of the demons and monsters within each of us that may present obstacles to authenticity and growth. In short, there are alligators in the swamp, but it is essential to drain that swamp question by question regardless of the fears we have or the challenges we face.
What has that to do with Buddhist cannibals? Only that the juxtaposition of cannibal and Buddhist means I continue seeking. The four Noble Truths of Buddhism are: 1. life is suffering; 2. suffering is due to attachment; 3. attachment can be overcome and 4. there is a path for accomplishing this, dharma, the middle way. (‘The Basics of Buddhist Wisdom,’ Dr. C. George Boeree, Shippensburg University.)
None of the Noble Truths suggest that Buddhists aren’t cannibals. That comes by way of the eightfold path, the fourth of which, rightful action, is to avoid hurtful behaviors such as killing. The fifth part of the path says that right livelihood is making a living in such a way as to avoid dishonesty and hurting others, including animals. If Dr. Boeree is correct, these two tenets of Buddhism argue against Buddhist cannibals.
Boeree’s article also notes that right mindfulness means focusing attention on body, feeling and thought in such a way as to overcome craving, hatred and ignorance. To concentrate rightly, one engages in progressive meditation to realize understanding of imperfection, impermanence and non-separateness and right aspiration is the true desire to free one’s self from attachment, ignorance and hatefulness. The Noble Truths and the eightfold path provide only reasons for and ways of negotiating the swamplands Hollis described.
Are there Buddhist cannibals in the swamplands? Good question.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
About Multiple Sclerosis
Read the title of my blog and realized I haven't mentioned MS yet. Now I've mentioned it. More complete and up to date information is available through the NMSS.org site.
How does MS affect me? Good days and bad days. It's a lot like real life. Don't drive anymore, since my reaction time and focus are slowed. Some times I struggle to find words when I'm talking. Good thing I'm a writer. I can take my time finding the right word to write whereas in conversation that tip of the tongue experience (aphasia) is a real drag. It's not always present, so the real disruption for me is how I get embarrassed when it is. Embarrassment is my issue, not something caused by the MS.
My mother had MS. A cousin also has it. MS is not hereditary. I believe genes+stress+virus of some sort may lead to MS. That's my thought. Got no scientific proof, therefore BEWARE: anecdote. My mother was diagnosed before disease modifying therapies (DMTs) were available. My cousin and I are lucky. There are DMTs now and more in the medical pipeline. Researchers now are even talking about prevention and cure.
The diagnosis did change my life: I grew up. In many ways, I became stronger. If you want to know how a disabled woman learned to live in a van with two dogs, two cats and their litter pan, her pens and paper while trying to keep her mind together and prove her eligibility for veterans benefits, read Inside the Kaleidoscope when it becomes available.
How does MS affect me? Good days and bad days. It's a lot like real life. Don't drive anymore, since my reaction time and focus are slowed. Some times I struggle to find words when I'm talking. Good thing I'm a writer. I can take my time finding the right word to write whereas in conversation that tip of the tongue experience (aphasia) is a real drag. It's not always present, so the real disruption for me is how I get embarrassed when it is. Embarrassment is my issue, not something caused by the MS.
My mother had MS. A cousin also has it. MS is not hereditary. I believe genes+stress+virus of some sort may lead to MS. That's my thought. Got no scientific proof, therefore BEWARE: anecdote. My mother was diagnosed before disease modifying therapies (DMTs) were available. My cousin and I are lucky. There are DMTs now and more in the medical pipeline. Researchers now are even talking about prevention and cure.
The diagnosis did change my life: I grew up. In many ways, I became stronger. If you want to know how a disabled woman learned to live in a van with two dogs, two cats and their litter pan, her pens and paper while trying to keep her mind together and prove her eligibility for veterans benefits, read Inside the Kaleidoscope when it becomes available.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
A Three Star Day
According to the newspaper horoscope, today is a three star day for me. Better than a no star day, not as good as a five star day, certainly not as good as a day at the beach. So it goes.
Working and worrying, per usual. Agents to contact, so query letters to write, formats to consider, manners to mind. But I'm not afraid, the great and powerful OHJEEZ-you-want-what is behind the screens, hidden from view. That's not really true. When a writer writes, she is present in her work, no matter how she hides. A conundrum.
Been reading blogs from the San Francisco Writers U. Reading is good, learning is good, SFWU is good and the blogs at the site are fabulous, entertaining and informational. I've learned there are many brilliant, sensitive writers who have yet to be published. I also have learned that a writer may need a developing editor for assistance in shaping the story after the initial draft, another editor for finish work on the work, a website designer and a personal assistant before considering an agent. Thus, writing isn't an isolated act but one with the potential to employ at least six people. Hooray for small business USA.
I didn't realize being a writer was an entrepreneurial enterprise that provides income to many. Now that I know, the idea appeals to my inner caregiver. That is a good thing, providing incentive to me on those days when I would rather sit on my chaise and sip tea.
All kidding aside, I do see that having a trusted support team would be helpful. There is the creative writing that I alone can do and then there's what a friend of mine called administrative trivia. Not that administrative work is trivial; it's essential and it involves the sort of skills and talents I haven't developed, despite a year of law school and a term as a law clerk. My skill and happiness is writing.
Ah, a three star day for sure. Me to my chaise lounge with tea. I can do that now, as I don't yet have a team to support.
Working and worrying, per usual. Agents to contact, so query letters to write, formats to consider, manners to mind. But I'm not afraid, the great and powerful OHJEEZ-you-want-what is behind the screens, hidden from view. That's not really true. When a writer writes, she is present in her work, no matter how she hides. A conundrum.
Been reading blogs from the San Francisco Writers U. Reading is good, learning is good, SFWU is good and the blogs at the site are fabulous, entertaining and informational. I've learned there are many brilliant, sensitive writers who have yet to be published. I also have learned that a writer may need a developing editor for assistance in shaping the story after the initial draft, another editor for finish work on the work, a website designer and a personal assistant before considering an agent. Thus, writing isn't an isolated act but one with the potential to employ at least six people. Hooray for small business USA.
I didn't realize being a writer was an entrepreneurial enterprise that provides income to many. Now that I know, the idea appeals to my inner caregiver. That is a good thing, providing incentive to me on those days when I would rather sit on my chaise and sip tea.
All kidding aside, I do see that having a trusted support team would be helpful. There is the creative writing that I alone can do and then there's what a friend of mine called administrative trivia. Not that administrative work is trivial; it's essential and it involves the sort of skills and talents I haven't developed, despite a year of law school and a term as a law clerk. My skill and happiness is writing.
Ah, a three star day for sure. Me to my chaise lounge with tea. I can do that now, as I don't yet have a team to support.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
It was a surfing day.
I was writing the outline for Inside the Kaleidoscope and I realized a) writing the mss. first is doing things backward and b) without that backward look, I wasn't seeing ITK at all. Hello. Is it a chicken, an egg, a poodle or a road sign? Don't cross the road.
Learning is good. I believe I think I believe. News Flash: my eyes have aged more than a day today, computer screens being what they are. Also, beware the presbyopic computer worker: She really can't see you.
This whimsy brought to you by Fatigue, maker of Old Folks Underwear for Change and three, count them, three different ways to lose your mind without losing your vague smile.
That's all she wrote for now and that's a good thing, too.
Learning is good. I believe I think I believe. News Flash: my eyes have aged more than a day today, computer screens being what they are. Also, beware the presbyopic computer worker: She really can't see you.
This whimsy brought to you by Fatigue, maker of Old Folks Underwear for Change and three, count them, three different ways to lose your mind without losing your vague smile.
That's all she wrote for now and that's a good thing, too.
Friday, February 25, 2011
SFWC and learning.
I attended the San Francisco Writer's Conference 2/18-20. Wonderful connections made with other writers, with editors and agents. It was worth the $$ and exhaustion. I feel I'm a member of a community. Hooray.
Met David Morrell at the conference. He's the author of First Blood, the Rambo originator. Rambo of the movies leaves me cold, so I wasn't prepared for Mr. Morrell, a kind and generous man who spent time with newbies like me, giving us the 4-1-1 about publishing and what media shifts, like ebooks, mean for writers. His keynote speech later at the Saturday luncheon also inspired me, professionally and personally. What I got from the speech is this: you can, you must, write the story you were meant to write no matter what obstacles you face.
I am one of those who is lost on the computer learning curve some between DOS and HTML. My daughter Kate laughs to think I fear computer-rama. I admit it, I am afraid. Go ahead, laugh.
I will learn, I will move forward, I will write down the URL and any passwords so I won't forget them. Lists now are necessary memory tools for me and post-its are the tools necessary to remember the other memory tools. REMEMBER LISTS the post-it shouts. Sometime I must remember to make post-its that shout about what lists, for I have many and don't always know which list the post-it refers to. I will leave aside my filing system. I don't really have one and writing about an empty set would just confuse me.
Must write an outline of Inside the Kaleidoscope for inclusion with the first three chapters an agent requested. Had no idea my story of life in a van with two cats, two dogs and me and my fears would interest anyone enough that I'd need an outline of the story. Drat. If only I'd been a Girl Scout. I would have been prepared. Same goes for the synopsis of ITK that I must write. Got to be tight, engaging words on two pages to describe a year of constant changes. There's a challenge. Yike.
Met David Morrell at the conference. He's the author of First Blood, the Rambo originator. Rambo of the movies leaves me cold, so I wasn't prepared for Mr. Morrell, a kind and generous man who spent time with newbies like me, giving us the 4-1-1 about publishing and what media shifts, like ebooks, mean for writers. His keynote speech later at the Saturday luncheon also inspired me, professionally and personally. What I got from the speech is this: you can, you must, write the story you were meant to write no matter what obstacles you face.
I am one of those who is lost on the computer learning curve some between DOS and HTML. My daughter Kate laughs to think I fear computer-rama. I admit it, I am afraid. Go ahead, laugh.
I will learn, I will move forward, I will write down the URL and any passwords so I won't forget them. Lists now are necessary memory tools for me and post-its are the tools necessary to remember the other memory tools. REMEMBER LISTS the post-it shouts. Sometime I must remember to make post-its that shout about what lists, for I have many and don't always know which list the post-it refers to. I will leave aside my filing system. I don't really have one and writing about an empty set would just confuse me.
Must write an outline of Inside the Kaleidoscope for inclusion with the first three chapters an agent requested. Had no idea my story of life in a van with two cats, two dogs and me and my fears would interest anyone enough that I'd need an outline of the story. Drat. If only I'd been a Girl Scout. I would have been prepared. Same goes for the synopsis of ITK that I must write. Got to be tight, engaging words on two pages to describe a year of constant changes. There's a challenge. Yike.
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