It seems in the wee hours of the morning, self is stripped away. For some reason, my most often insatiable ego, is not searching for something to latch onto at 4am. The Buddhist me isn't looking for the wisdom in everything, the punk rock me isn't trying to push anyones buttons, the activist me isn't searching for a new cause to rally around. Is it cause no one is looking, that this burden of self isn't here right now? Everything is peaceful, everything seems okay.
But gnawing at the back of my heart is an emptiness. Like when Ram Dass describes his experience with LSD, that eventually everything, came to a "one-pointedness". This, some people will claim, is the goal. If so, than why do I feel lacking? Not in a desperate sense, as most my encounters of "emptiness" feel, but more of an emotional understanding of "not yet". Or is this the failed human conditioning, a true understanding of dukha?
Or maybe I am just bored, and can't sleep.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Junkies and Losers...
This was written in response to comments made on oregonlive.com, about homelessness in Portland. The commenters were compassionate towards "those who deserve it" (whatever that means) while using terms like "junkie street kids with aggressive dogs" and losers":
"These "losers" and "junkie street kids" are suffering human beings. Did you ever stop to think that there may be some kind of horrible conditioning that led them to such a state in their lives. Sure we can get annoyed and bothered when it appears that all "those people" (blatantly not realizing that whether we like it or not, they are part of our community) are all just out to take.
I was a homeless drug addict and alcoholic for 13 years. The life that preceded such a tragic life was not a pretty one. My mother had abandoned me to cook crystal meth, left me with an violent alcoholic father who was later murdered in life, I was kicked out of my house at the age of 11 for shaming my father, later to wind up in Maclaren for trying to survive on the streets, I took up prostitution by the age of 14, all but three of my friends have been murdered, OD'd, commited suicide, or are either in jail or in an insane asylum for life. So instead of judging people because they either pull at our heart strings, or inconvenience our little selfish world, or they, what is mostly likely the truth, force us to look at the brutal truth of what our perfect delusional little world has turned into,we might realize that WE ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE. I am just as guilty as the next, and probabaly even more so, because I suffer from the same disease as everyone else, which is the failure to see a human being, when we look at a human being.
The services for drug addiction and alcoholism in this state are abysmal, yet we claim to be so liberal. We feed and clothe the homeless, therefore putting a band-aid on a shotgun wound. We are all so opposed to war, that we tend to forget that the men and women who have fought for their chosen ideal, have only done what they thought was best, and therefore forgetting the validation every human needs and deserves. We have placed CHILDREN in positions to be tried as adults (whatever that is supposed to discern) and therefore completely robbed them of any chance of rehabilitation. Do we honestly believe that humanity has regressed so much, to insist that murderes and rapists are born and not made?
Maybe, just maybe, the problem does not lie so much in the individual, but in the foul callousness that we have achieved, as a whole society. I am not saying that people should not be held accountable for their actions, but I would hope that we would look for what creates such "mosters" as we have come to regard them as. How much longer can we continue to point the finger at the world around us, blaming everyone else for the state of the nation, while we continue to work in our comfotable little jobs, drive our fancy little cars, and go home to our safe neighborhoods, while there are women and children sleeping in the street, while trusting little boys are being raped by priests and teachers, while a child is doing life in prison because he commited a crime at the age of 15 and had to adapt to prison life, where murder and rape are not only the norm, but a means of survival? If I haven't done anything to ammend the situation today, and everyday, then it is not fault of the "loser homeless junkie" who has inconvenienced my joyous little downtown shopping spree, but me. I am the only one to blame.
"These "losers" and "junkie street kids" are suffering human beings. Did you ever stop to think that there may be some kind of horrible conditioning that led them to such a state in their lives. Sure we can get annoyed and bothered when it appears that all "those people" (blatantly not realizing that whether we like it or not, they are part of our community) are all just out to take.
I was a homeless drug addict and alcoholic for 13 years. The life that preceded such a tragic life was not a pretty one. My mother had abandoned me to cook crystal meth, left me with an violent alcoholic father who was later murdered in life, I was kicked out of my house at the age of 11 for shaming my father, later to wind up in Maclaren for trying to survive on the streets, I took up prostitution by the age of 14, all but three of my friends have been murdered, OD'd, commited suicide, or are either in jail or in an insane asylum for life. So instead of judging people because they either pull at our heart strings, or inconvenience our little selfish world, or they, what is mostly likely the truth, force us to look at the brutal truth of what our perfect delusional little world has turned into,we might realize that WE ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE. I am just as guilty as the next, and probabaly even more so, because I suffer from the same disease as everyone else, which is the failure to see a human being, when we look at a human being.
The services for drug addiction and alcoholism in this state are abysmal, yet we claim to be so liberal. We feed and clothe the homeless, therefore putting a band-aid on a shotgun wound. We are all so opposed to war, that we tend to forget that the men and women who have fought for their chosen ideal, have only done what they thought was best, and therefore forgetting the validation every human needs and deserves. We have placed CHILDREN in positions to be tried as adults (whatever that is supposed to discern) and therefore completely robbed them of any chance of rehabilitation. Do we honestly believe that humanity has regressed so much, to insist that murderes and rapists are born and not made?
Maybe, just maybe, the problem does not lie so much in the individual, but in the foul callousness that we have achieved, as a whole society. I am not saying that people should not be held accountable for their actions, but I would hope that we would look for what creates such "mosters" as we have come to regard them as. How much longer can we continue to point the finger at the world around us, blaming everyone else for the state of the nation, while we continue to work in our comfotable little jobs, drive our fancy little cars, and go home to our safe neighborhoods, while there are women and children sleeping in the street, while trusting little boys are being raped by priests and teachers, while a child is doing life in prison because he commited a crime at the age of 15 and had to adapt to prison life, where murder and rape are not only the norm, but a means of survival? If I haven't done anything to ammend the situation today, and everyday, then it is not fault of the "loser homeless junkie" who has inconvenienced my joyous little downtown shopping spree, but me. I am the only one to blame.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Zen PeaceMakers Symposium of Western Socially Engaged Buddhism
I am probably writing this to escape the dread of packing, but what the hell.
So I had the honor and joy of volunteering at the Zen Peacemakers Symposium of Western Socially Engaged Buddhism, at the Zen Peacemakers Farmhouse and Zendo, from August 8th to August 15th. I figured it would be a waste if I didn't try to recall and write about my amazing, and sometimes, overwhelming experience.
First I want to talk about the amazing group of volunteers, I had the honor of serving with. So often I forget that the rest of the world doesn't have the same agenda as I do. One woman was a Catholic, another kid was a Harvard student looking to understand ways to open up communication between Buddhists and Catholics. A few of the volunteers were on a kind of spiritual quest, seeking a place where they could find answers, while others weren't even Buddhist. So much for expectations. I wish I knew then, that these people, their names, their faces, the very essence of who they are, will follow me for a lifetime. I will always be blessed with the fortune of having encountered, worked with, laughed with, cried with, some of the most amazing people the human race has to offer. (I love you guys).
The week was spent rushing to and fro, getting up, setting up the hall for meditation, rushing down to eat before everyone got there, running from task to panel meeting back to task. I am not complaining in the slightest. I was actually extremely pleased with the way everything worked out. I came out to be of service, and if I was lucky, sit in on some of the Symposium, but I had an oppurtunity to make most of it.
I should probably take this opportunity to say that before showing up to the Symposium, I was just a punk rocker, who just happened to be into Buddhism and was looking to get his feet wet. When I left, I felt more like an Engaged Buddhist, part of an international sangha of other Engaged Buddhists, who just happened to be into punk rock, and I am still, soaking wet, from head to toe. I didn't think there was a place for me in this world comprised of people whom I have always respected from a distance. I felt like I was supposed to sit in the corner and play with my Rubiks Cube, while the grown ups took care of business. But not only was I made to feel a part of, but more so that my voice was actually needed and appreciated; that I spoke for a generation yet to come.
I had the opportunity to meet and speak with Fleet Maull about my role with Dharma Punx Boston and the role younger Engaged Buddhist will play in the future. I was given the privilege to laugh along side Bikkhu Bodhi about monks swimming and learned that monastics have not lost there sense of humor. Anne Waldman shared with us all, the importance the arts, or more directly, at least in my case, poetry plays in the spreading of the Dharma. I got to share time of devotion with Krishna Das, and I learned that Jeff Bridges likes hummus with his turkey sandwiches.
I had the honor of being able to speak up in panel meetings and meekly share my experience as a recovering drug addict and homeless youth, the transformative power of the Dharma, and the need to reach out to the impoverished and disenfranchised. When I walked around doubting the reciprocation of my statements, I was pulled to the side, time and time again, and was told how much people appreciate what i had to say, and that they were very glad that I had spoken up. I am still getting e-mails from people recalling my statements and presence at the Symposium.
The Zen Peacemakers, the amazing volunteers, the panelists and speakers and especially the attendees, gave me a new sense of purpose and direction. I realized that not only do i have the capability to make a difference, but maybe even an obligation. And from that sense of obligation and a manifestation of action, in accordance with "Not-Knowing", "Bearing Witness", and "Loving Action", has come irrefutable joy. Such a joy, it is a wonder that i had ever lived without it.
I have become "sold" on the Zen Peacemakers. I want to glean as much as I can from the wisdom behind such an active Order. For many years I tried to cover up the compassionate heart, cause it was painful, and i didn't think i could do anything to ease the suffering of the world. But the actions taken by some of the most inspiring teachers, and all the people connected to them, has shown me otherwise. I may have no money, and I am not sure how I am going to survive day by day, I do know, that i will do everything in my power to continue on the path, that was made clear to me, at the Zen Peacemakers Symposium for Western Socially Engaged Buddhists. I plan on trying to come up with the money to attend the "Residential Training Program" at the Montague Farmhouse. I would like to study at the Peacemakers Institute. I have even sought out the local White Plum lineage practice group.
If anybody reading this has an opportunity to work with the Zen Peacemakers, i would highly encourage you to do so. And if not the Zen Peacemakers, work with somebody. There is so much to do. Smiling at someone walking down the street. Giving a loving hello to the angry guy at the office. Letting people board the bus before you. Asking the name of a local homeless man, and remembering to greet him with his name when you see him. Volunteering at your local Humane Society. Giving money or time to a local non-profit. Sitting on the meditation cushion to transform your own life, so as to become a beacon of hope for others. Something I always try to tell the guys I sponsor in my 12 Step meetings, "If you think you lack something, give that something away, and you will realise it's abundance." Today I choose to have, and give, patience, compassion, kindness, appreciation, empathy and forgiveness, to those in need.
So I had the honor and joy of volunteering at the Zen Peacemakers Symposium of Western Socially Engaged Buddhism, at the Zen Peacemakers Farmhouse and Zendo, from August 8th to August 15th. I figured it would be a waste if I didn't try to recall and write about my amazing, and sometimes, overwhelming experience.
First I want to talk about the amazing group of volunteers, I had the honor of serving with. So often I forget that the rest of the world doesn't have the same agenda as I do. One woman was a Catholic, another kid was a Harvard student looking to understand ways to open up communication between Buddhists and Catholics. A few of the volunteers were on a kind of spiritual quest, seeking a place where they could find answers, while others weren't even Buddhist. So much for expectations. I wish I knew then, that these people, their names, their faces, the very essence of who they are, will follow me for a lifetime. I will always be blessed with the fortune of having encountered, worked with, laughed with, cried with, some of the most amazing people the human race has to offer. (I love you guys).
The week was spent rushing to and fro, getting up, setting up the hall for meditation, rushing down to eat before everyone got there, running from task to panel meeting back to task. I am not complaining in the slightest. I was actually extremely pleased with the way everything worked out. I came out to be of service, and if I was lucky, sit in on some of the Symposium, but I had an oppurtunity to make most of it.
I should probably take this opportunity to say that before showing up to the Symposium, I was just a punk rocker, who just happened to be into Buddhism and was looking to get his feet wet. When I left, I felt more like an Engaged Buddhist, part of an international sangha of other Engaged Buddhists, who just happened to be into punk rock, and I am still, soaking wet, from head to toe. I didn't think there was a place for me in this world comprised of people whom I have always respected from a distance. I felt like I was supposed to sit in the corner and play with my Rubiks Cube, while the grown ups took care of business. But not only was I made to feel a part of, but more so that my voice was actually needed and appreciated; that I spoke for a generation yet to come.
I had the opportunity to meet and speak with Fleet Maull about my role with Dharma Punx Boston and the role younger Engaged Buddhist will play in the future. I was given the privilege to laugh along side Bikkhu Bodhi about monks swimming and learned that monastics have not lost there sense of humor. Anne Waldman shared with us all, the importance the arts, or more directly, at least in my case, poetry plays in the spreading of the Dharma. I got to share time of devotion with Krishna Das, and I learned that Jeff Bridges likes hummus with his turkey sandwiches.
I had the honor of being able to speak up in panel meetings and meekly share my experience as a recovering drug addict and homeless youth, the transformative power of the Dharma, and the need to reach out to the impoverished and disenfranchised. When I walked around doubting the reciprocation of my statements, I was pulled to the side, time and time again, and was told how much people appreciate what i had to say, and that they were very glad that I had spoken up. I am still getting e-mails from people recalling my statements and presence at the Symposium.
The Zen Peacemakers, the amazing volunteers, the panelists and speakers and especially the attendees, gave me a new sense of purpose and direction. I realized that not only do i have the capability to make a difference, but maybe even an obligation. And from that sense of obligation and a manifestation of action, in accordance with "Not-Knowing", "Bearing Witness", and "Loving Action", has come irrefutable joy. Such a joy, it is a wonder that i had ever lived without it.
I have become "sold" on the Zen Peacemakers. I want to glean as much as I can from the wisdom behind such an active Order. For many years I tried to cover up the compassionate heart, cause it was painful, and i didn't think i could do anything to ease the suffering of the world. But the actions taken by some of the most inspiring teachers, and all the people connected to them, has shown me otherwise. I may have no money, and I am not sure how I am going to survive day by day, I do know, that i will do everything in my power to continue on the path, that was made clear to me, at the Zen Peacemakers Symposium for Western Socially Engaged Buddhists. I plan on trying to come up with the money to attend the "Residential Training Program" at the Montague Farmhouse. I would like to study at the Peacemakers Institute. I have even sought out the local White Plum lineage practice group.
If anybody reading this has an opportunity to work with the Zen Peacemakers, i would highly encourage you to do so. And if not the Zen Peacemakers, work with somebody. There is so much to do. Smiling at someone walking down the street. Giving a loving hello to the angry guy at the office. Letting people board the bus before you. Asking the name of a local homeless man, and remembering to greet him with his name when you see him. Volunteering at your local Humane Society. Giving money or time to a local non-profit. Sitting on the meditation cushion to transform your own life, so as to become a beacon of hope for others. Something I always try to tell the guys I sponsor in my 12 Step meetings, "If you think you lack something, give that something away, and you will realise it's abundance." Today I choose to have, and give, patience, compassion, kindness, appreciation, empathy and forgiveness, to those in need.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Fear
So here I sit, not but a few weeks away from my move back to Oregon. And I am absolutely petrified. I am leaving behind my support, my sangha, the best girl I have ever met, and I am heading to a place that was the back drop of a lot of my addiction and suffering in my life. I don't know how to sit with that. I am working very hard at quitting smoking, and have even tried adopting a "Straight-Edge" mentality. But fear, doubt, and insecurity creep into my heart and my thoughts and lay dormant till the hours of evening where I am alone and vulnerable, only breeding feelings of absolute loneliness and strengthened fear. I pace and talk to myself, trying iron the inconsistencies of thought but that only seems to compound the problem. I must strive on, but I am not sure I have faced fear like this, at least not sober. I am not sure why I write this. I guess as a clue to my mind set were anything bad to happen. I pray I can walk through this fire and come out, alive and sober on the other side. I am going to start praying to Shiva, hopefully to invoke some of the same spiritual warrior characteristics of his personality which draw me to him.
Om Namah Shivaaya
Shivaaya namaha, Shivaaya namah om
Shivaaya namaha, namaha Shivaaya
Shambhu Shankara namah Shivaaya, Girijaa Shankara namah Shivaaya
Arunaachala Shiva namah Shivaaya
Om Namah Shivaaya
Shivaaya namaha, Shivaaya namah om
Shivaaya namaha, namaha Shivaaya
Shambhu Shankara namah Shivaaya, Girijaa Shankara namah Shivaaya
Arunaachala Shiva namah Shivaaya
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Dana
It has become apparent to me that the time has come for me to move on in my life. I came to Boston almost 4 years ago, a desperate and broken mess. I was trying to drink myself to death in the evenings, but when the first daylight broke my eyelids I would be in a panic searching for my bottle, trying to fend off the shakes, delirium tremens and alcoholic seizure. I had seen all this world had to offer and I wanted to see no more. May 10th, 2006 I woke up just like every morning, dry heaves, shakes, trying to put enough wine down my throat just to be able to get my bearings on what that upcoming day would hold. And just like every other day, it took me down the road of alcoholic insanity. While drinking, I was wondering where the next drink was coming from and how I was going to get it. That day, I remember this so vividly, I had decided I had drinken enough that day. Not but 10 minutes later, I found myself going to the fridge, grabbing my bottle to take "one last swig". When I tipped the bottle to my lips, I found myself physically incapable of pulling it away. The few seconds it took my to guzzle a whole bottle of Night Train seemed like an eternity. Like trying to pick a weight that is to heavy for one to lift, no matter how much I wanted to, or even how hard I physically tried I could not pull the bottle from my lips, and I cried. I cried for the broken man I had become, cried for the monster I thought I was, cried for the mother who didn't know her son, cried for a wife who had to leave the husband she had lost the fight with heroin over only 6 years prior. I cried for the heart who couldn't go on one more minute in this world with a conscious connection to what had become of it's host. To no surprise I went into a blackout only moments later.
I came out of that blackout, in Amarillo, Texas on May 12th, on a Greyhound bus. I had two things in my hand. A half finished liter of what seemed to be one part Mountain Dew, four parts gin, and a ticket stub, bound for Boston. At the bottom of that ticket stub was written, "Get sober, ASSHOLE!!!", in my handwriting. It seems like just yesterday somedays and other days it seems like another lifetime. I don't remember having any intention to get sober, or become employed or get housed, or assimilate any sense of responsibility. All I knew then was that (a) Everytime I drank, I died, and (b) Everytime I didn't drink, I died, and that I just wanted to stop dying. Living wasn't neccessarily an option either.
If you are reading this, I assume you have read other posts by me and realize I am obviously not that man today. I have become an active member in a 12 Step group in which I am actually a trusted member and have even had the honor of sharing my experience with others. I have a pretty intense Buddhist practice and I have developed an interest in social justice. Which is why I, again, decide to write this long put off blog.
I am moving back to the west coast. Not that things are neccessarily bad here in Boston but I have things that I have to take care of. I haven't seen my family in years. Also, and more importantly, through sobriety and a meditation practice, I have learned that not only do I have dreams but that I am completely capable of following them. I have a penchant for wanting to help others. I have seen where my experience can benefit others. I want to live in a community with more Buddhist resources and I also would like to someday work with at-risk and troubled youth.
It seems though, that the closer and closer I get to that becoming a reality, the more and more adverse I get to it. I love my friends here in Boston. I love them a whole hell of a lot that I don't think there are words to express my love and undying gratitude. They helped me when I, not only, thought I was unhelpable but unworthy as well. I hate that I am using so many cliche's but they loved me till I was able to love myself. It is through that love, and the growth that stemmed from that, that I believe it is now my responsibility to chase my dreams.
I would have been perfectly content to live out my days here in Boston, always second guessing, "should-have-I?", but I believe as a compassionate member of the human race, it is my obligation to prove that it can be done. For the doubters, there needs to be proof that someone who came from such depths of depravity is afforded the chance to redeem himself, were he to just have the willingness to continue growing. It is my job to give hope to those who have none. Not to say I am this great leader of men, but that hope and truth are found in places that are normally not associated with such qualities. If a low-life, street thug, junkie, drunkard can find redemption and someday even turn around and give back to a society he once despised, to give back to the next generation of confused youth, more pawned off on the television and phony role models de jour, than it is possible for anyone. I know that to be true and it is my job, AND HONOR, to show how I did it.
To those who came before me, to those who walk with me, to those who have yet to stumble our way, from the dark alleys of wasted American teenage throw-aways, I promise I won't stop trying and striving.
PREVAIL
I came out of that blackout, in Amarillo, Texas on May 12th, on a Greyhound bus. I had two things in my hand. A half finished liter of what seemed to be one part Mountain Dew, four parts gin, and a ticket stub, bound for Boston. At the bottom of that ticket stub was written, "Get sober, ASSHOLE!!!", in my handwriting. It seems like just yesterday somedays and other days it seems like another lifetime. I don't remember having any intention to get sober, or become employed or get housed, or assimilate any sense of responsibility. All I knew then was that (a) Everytime I drank, I died, and (b) Everytime I didn't drink, I died, and that I just wanted to stop dying. Living wasn't neccessarily an option either.
If you are reading this, I assume you have read other posts by me and realize I am obviously not that man today. I have become an active member in a 12 Step group in which I am actually a trusted member and have even had the honor of sharing my experience with others. I have a pretty intense Buddhist practice and I have developed an interest in social justice. Which is why I, again, decide to write this long put off blog.
I am moving back to the west coast. Not that things are neccessarily bad here in Boston but I have things that I have to take care of. I haven't seen my family in years. Also, and more importantly, through sobriety and a meditation practice, I have learned that not only do I have dreams but that I am completely capable of following them. I have a penchant for wanting to help others. I have seen where my experience can benefit others. I want to live in a community with more Buddhist resources and I also would like to someday work with at-risk and troubled youth.
It seems though, that the closer and closer I get to that becoming a reality, the more and more adverse I get to it. I love my friends here in Boston. I love them a whole hell of a lot that I don't think there are words to express my love and undying gratitude. They helped me when I, not only, thought I was unhelpable but unworthy as well. I hate that I am using so many cliche's but they loved me till I was able to love myself. It is through that love, and the growth that stemmed from that, that I believe it is now my responsibility to chase my dreams.
I would have been perfectly content to live out my days here in Boston, always second guessing, "should-have-I?", but I believe as a compassionate member of the human race, it is my obligation to prove that it can be done. For the doubters, there needs to be proof that someone who came from such depths of depravity is afforded the chance to redeem himself, were he to just have the willingness to continue growing. It is my job to give hope to those who have none. Not to say I am this great leader of men, but that hope and truth are found in places that are normally not associated with such qualities. If a low-life, street thug, junkie, drunkard can find redemption and someday even turn around and give back to a society he once despised, to give back to the next generation of confused youth, more pawned off on the television and phony role models de jour, than it is possible for anyone. I know that to be true and it is my job, AND HONOR, to show how I did it.
To those who came before me, to those who walk with me, to those who have yet to stumble our way, from the dark alleys of wasted American teenage throw-aways, I promise I won't stop trying and striving.
PREVAIL
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
